Darksiders: Tribulations
by Jonesybites
Summary: Death seeks to confront the Council to prove War's innocence…in the meantime, War is persecuted while an Elemental, a steward of the Earth is assigned to help War stay alive for his day in court, all the while another threat rises from Hell
1. Synopsis

**Darksiders: Tribulations**

_**Synopsis…**_

After the fall of the Destroyer and justice was satisfied, the Horseman War is soon subjected to being hunted by both remaining kingdoms and the Charred Council, however, the other three Horsemen reenter the battle arena to keep the balance and dispute War's involvement.

In the meantime, a distinguished Demon Lord, Mephistopheles, takes the reins of what is left of the Destroyers' armies while Samael regains his status as the keeper of Hell. Thus a civil war in Hell begins.

With more power that is unnaturally more potent than anyone has ever seen, Mephistopheles manages to quash both the Angel's outposts as well as Hells', using tactics the armies of Heaven or Hell have never seen.

After the incidents, thereof, the Council suspects an unbalance and is quick to summon the Elementals, stewards of the Earth Realm, to establish the balance to its original integrity before the armies of Mephistopheles excel. However, because of the incidents of the premature Apocalypse, the Elementals are quick to realize that they are outside of the Council's jurisdiction and anarchy ensues. Despite the lack of supervision among the Elementals, some have managed to organize their own forces while others keep their alliance with the Creator.

In the meantime, the Horseman, Death has isolated himself from the others and the Council, to avoid being War's potential executioner while finding a way to salvage War's innocence. But before he confronts the Council, he roams the Earth, seeking Elementals that can serve as witnesses to build his case for War's innocence.

Realizing the circumstances as dire, an Elemental known as Plague, is given strict orders to assist War in his efforts to establish the balance that is still in sway and protect him from both Heaven and Hell, as well as renegade Elementals.

Despite War's protest in needing any assistance in the matter, Plague reminds War that the bond between Lord and servant in inseparable and that Plague was instructed to stay with War for a "time trial." At the end of their union, if War feels that he is in no need of Plague's assistance, then Plague will comply and return to the "master" with no repercussions.

Despite War's lack of trust in Plague, he allows Plague to aid him in searching for "allies" to help War bring justice against those who framed him, buying time for Death. But as they dig deep in search for what has transpired, revelations are revealed that neither may be ready to handle.

* * *

_Greetings and welcome to my next Fanfic. As I finish up my latest fanfic, **Snowblind** for Gears of War, I have begun setting up the outline of this fanfic that will take place shortly after the events of the game. As I continue to do more research in the genre, I will have to disclose that some of the events taking place in my fanfic may fall out of canon events since additional information concerning the storyline that follows the game is limited._

_The series will officially begin in February as I get some chapters squared away. __In the meantime, if you have any feedback or questions, feel free to email me anytime._


	2. Chapter 1 All Comes To Pass

_Please Note: This is strictly a fanfic and that I do not own or preside over the Darksiders franchise. I only preside over the OC's in this story which I will list under the Synopsis later on._

* * *

**Darksiders: Tribulations**

_**Prologue…**_

_**Anno domini**...It was the year of our Lord, on December 8, 1347…_

...a young woman began to write carefully with her quill as the noise from outside the monastery was growing more audible. She attempted to keep a steady hand as she rolled up the sleeves of her habiliment, trying to tune out the commotion that was steadily weighing against the thick walls that kept the inhabitants inside, sound. Attempting to focus in the dim candlelight, a loud thud could be heard, followed by a series of clamoring coming from the neighboring chamber below.

Another sister of the convent was running up the stairs, calling to her frantically,

"Sister Janella, there's a child waiting…" the girl said, still trying to catch her breath.

"Do we have a bed available, Mariah?" Janella asked.

"Yes…but I do not know how long we can withstand the mob. You need to come quickly!"

Janella placed her quill next to the side of the ink well. She got up from the table and followed her "sister" to another chamber where a woman was crying profusely, standing in the room while holding a sickly, pale child in her arms.

"My daughter," she said in between sobs, "…she needs a prayer…_please."_ the woman begged, cradling her deathly, ill child.

While Mariah kept her distance from the woman and her sick little girl, Janella carefully took the frail child from her mother's arms and moved her into another room. Before exiting, Janella looked over her shoulder to Mariah,

"Can you keep the mob at bay while I take her?"

"I can try…but what will they do to us?"

Janella gave Mariah a sober glance as she moved quickly out of the room, moving up a flight of stairs and down a hallway towards the back of the convent.

Mariah and the woman stayed in the room as they could hear the banging on the chamber door while the voices of angry men could be heard clearly. Chaos had come to reap the harvest once more.

It had been nearly two weeks since the death of their reverend "Father" Francesco, another victim of a great Black Death that had infiltrated the city-state of Sicily, south of Italy. The death toll had been on the rise as the corpse' of many, litter in a nearby field where cremations have been frequent, attempting to cast the Great Demon away, but alas, the damage was done.

Although Francesco was trying diligently to find a means of combating the disease while caring for the sick in a infirmary just outside the convent, his efforts was in vain as the disease took a hold of him as well. Many of the sisters have left, relocated back to Rome, but they could not escape the pestilence, all the while Sister Jenella, whom was among the very few to have some natural immunity to the disease, stayed to assist Francesco in his work.

His premature death, however, followed by uncertainty and a series of conflicts between Muslim and Christian circles, have aggravated the human condition. He had long expected that the trade ships have been the source, resulting from their frequent travels to the Black Sea. He believed that there was something in the rats, after spending countless nights dissecting and studying the rats that were mysteriously, found dead on the ships.

As anger and panic seethed into the hearts of the people, the residents of the monastery have slowly become the scapegoats for the recent epidemic. Although it was first blamed among the lepers, and then the Jews, the convent had become its next target.

The noise coming from the entrance of the convent could be heard from the back of the building as Jenella struggled to open the back door with a sick child in her arms. Nevertheless, she managed to prop the door open, just enough for her to escape out of the convent until she ran over to a nearby forest, brushing up against the brush, carefully meandering around the trees with a frail little girl in her arms. Peering out through the edge of the thicket, Jenella pulled through the foliage of the woods and stepped out into a grassy field, slowly coming to a halt before she begin to kneel down and carefully lay the sick girl onto the soft grass.

"_Father my Lord…do not forsake us, I plead to you now,"_ Jenella prayed fervently in Latin, placing her hand on the child's head and gently stroking her damp hair, _"…here my prayer and I beseech you to find a place for this child in your kingdom as her time in the world comes at nigh."_

Suddenly, the noise of shouting could be heard nearby as Jenella looked up from her prayer.

"There she is…" one man yelled, holding a torch in hand.

"Kill the child…all who carry the Black Death must die!" another clamored.

Jenella stood up to confront the cries coming from the mob,

"Please…let her die in peace, not in violence!" she begged, holding her ground as the mob moved slowly, apprehensive of coming near the ill child.

"Kill the nun too!" another voice rang out.

"Are you mad? To kill a servant of our Lord, that's blasphemy!" anoher shouted.

"She has been exposed to the Black Death! She must die if the rest of those who are left are to live…"

_"Please_," Jenella begged them again, "…your salvation stands on the edge of a knife. Let our Lord deal with us as _He_ sees fit. I will take the child away from the village where she can die in peace…"

"So you can spread the Black Demon? Kill them both, _now_…before they infect us all!"

The mob started to move again with their pitchforks and swords in hands, until a great light blazed across the field and surrounded the mob. The people panicked, running in all directions with their farming rakes and blades, battling against an unseen foe. Jenella quickly knelt back down to shield the little girl from the chaos that swarmed around them.

Between the screams and the sound of metal clashing, followed by blood curdling shrieks, Jenella held the child closer to her as she closed her eyes in fright. The sounds began to subside as the screams were followed by moaning, similar to the groans that echoed from the victims of the deadly disease that ravaged their land. A silence followed the clamor as the pounding of heavy feet could be heard from near distance.

Sister Jenella cautiously opened her eyes and saw in shock, the heap of bodies that surrounded her, covered in the iron stench of blood that trickled onto the field, creating a small, crimson river. Jenella pulled the child closer to her breast as the little girl struggled to breathe from the heavy congestion in her lungs. Her death was at hand, and surely enough, Death was standing and waiting, glaring at the nun with bright, pale eyes, peering at Jenella's, glassy stare.

Jenella was speechless for a moment, not sure what to say to the tall figure that stood before her, with a massive scythe in hand and a book in the other, cloaked in a black garment. It was then he spoke, in a low, serene voice behind a pale mask; the mask of Death.

"It is time…you will come with me," the dark figure spoke.

"She cannot move, she is too ill…" Jenella said, gazing at the creature with her iridescent gray eyes.

The dark figure peered at her from under the heavy black hood that shadowed his face. All that could be seen was his glowing gaze, glaring at her from the void that was under his hood, behind a pale faceplate.

"I did not come for the child…" the dark figure said, "…I have come for _you."_

Jenella looked at the creature in shock, not knowing what she did to deserve this plight. _Am I to be sentenced into the great Lake of Fire? Have I offended you so much, my Lord, that I am to burn with the other defiled?_

Her head hung low as the black scarf that was wrapped around her head and neck, hung over her brow, covering the angst that was written on her porcelain face. She could feel the heavy ogling coming from the figure as she carefully placed the child back on the dry grass, wrapping the blanket around the comatose girl. Jenella stood up slowly and looked up at the figure with sorrow and shame in her eyes.

The figure then peered at her as his eyes burned, ogling at his reflection in her wide, glassy stare,

"Do not be ashamed…you are not condemned to Hell. I am merely here to, _please_ the balance."

"How does taking me from this world maintain this…great balance?"

"You have an immunity to the plague. This, Black Death, will serve a purpose in human history, therefore it must prevail without hindrance."

"Then the plague will extinguish humanity…"

"No…it will make humanity stronger, and Man will prevail."

In a strange sense of justice, Jenella saw the logic in the figure's oration. She nodded carefully, trying not to offend the figure the best she could, by avoiding making any gestures that may come across as threatening or insulting.

The figure slowly raised his scythe as the enormous blade glistened in the faint afterglow that illuminated from the overcast, winter sky.

"Do not fear…this will not hurt," the figure said calmly. Sister Jenella closed her eyes as the tranquil sound from his resonance, put her at ease as he swung the scythe, painlessly severing the life-thread that had bound her to the Earth, and now it is free from the shackles of decay.

_And now, let the Great Plague unfold… _

* * *

**Chapter 1: All Comes To Pass**

_Earth was once a beautiful place, thriving with life that excelled on a delicate balance of economic proportions. The balance, managed by the Elementals kept everything in check, from the shifting of the tectonic plates, to the density of a mustard seed, all intertwined within an infinite circle of equilibrium. How I miss it so._

_Now, anything that is left of our world is a rotting shell. All of what once existed is now perverted into Hell's recreation, seeking and devouring anything that strays from the path that is straight and so narrow. Since the balance was severed when six of the seven seals where prematurely broken, the Elementals became displaced, demanding answers that would never be satisfied until a justice was fulfilled. We believed, taking for granted that the balance would always prevail, despite the duel of fates. It was only later that we realized that we where wrong._

_Now, I wander aimlessly, heaped in a mountain of decay that has become overwhelming. I thought perhaps if I left the Demons to their own devices, that they would suffer the consequences, burying themselves in their own rot. My compassion, however, yanks me on a leash to prevail over the idling cop-out, compelling me to seek council from my master, who served the Creator. It was then, shortly before my master came under scrutiny, that he transferred my servitude to another, and then, I was instructed to assist the Destroyers' executioner. It is from here, when all fell to chaos, is where my involvement begins…_

_Plague_

* * *

_A few days after the breaking of the Seventh Seal…_

Brisking in the gentle breeze, the Horseman only known as Death, sits on his pale steed of morose, huffing heavily as the wind encircled its sturdy legs. Death's demeanor was solemn, looking in the distance as his long, deathly white hair hung in the breeze, along with his scarf, flapping from his covered neck while his pale, masked face, peers into the desert void ahead of him.

He meanders through his own memory, a curse that he loathed as he glanced at the once green Earth, sulking in its ruin. _I remember this place._

The ground on which he stood on this very Earth was the last place he would remember, shortly after his ascension and his return to the Charred Council. This place was green, covered in the late evening dew, filled with birds and roaming deer. _I can still smell the ozone that hung over the fields, quenching the air from the drought until the rain came to satisfy its thirst._

Now, it lies covered in a heap of ash, the remnants of the Third Kingdom, long decayed after a century of anarchy. Death has never known regret, never flinching in his occupation as the soul harvester. His conscience was as clear as glass, maintaining the balance that was set in motion by the Charred Council to keep all kingdoms in check when the final confrontation begins.

He rummages through millenniums of countless memories, the first time he set foot on the Earth when Man was tricked into his fate, after eating the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. He remembered when Man was since then, banished from Eden and was charged to tame the Earth if Man wanted to continue to exist. Thus then, the Third kingdom was born and thrived. Although weak and infantile, the Kingdom of Man had potential.

As memories resurfaced, he recalls his assembly with the other Horsemen. Death could reminiscent the day he came to Earth a second time, not to monitor the Apocalypse, but to step in between his fellow Horsemen and the youngest of the four, the Horseman War. He remembered vividly the day he had to subdue War when he became insolent and attacked the others. Since then, War carries the scar Death gave him to remind War of his responsibilities. War has never questioned his duties since, until that fateful day, when _all _would be betrayed.

Now, Death has learned to regret. The emotion pulsed in him, concoct with dejection and resentment that left nothing else that he could feel, if Death was ever able to "feel." Some say that Death was cold and indifferent, while others claimed him to be serene, and strangely compassionate. Either way, Death was something that some have admired while others' feared. It was for this reason that he was chosen to be trusted with the harvesting of souls when the final conflict between the kingdoms would commence.

But since the fall of the Third Kingdom from an Apocalypse that went horribly wrong, Death watched helplessly from the horizons while his preferred student, War, became the scapegoat. Any involvement into War's plight would have sealed War's fate, so Death could only hope that War would remember his place as a Horseman of The Apocalypse and everything that Death has taught him.

But now, another tribulation rises from the ashes of the world, as the Elementals, stewards of the Earth, grow restless. Some scream for justice, others exploit its demise, but occasionally, there are a few that continue to serve the balance. _It is these I must seek to prepare for my day before the Charred Council._

Turning his eyes away from the place he envisioned, Death tugs on the reins of his pale horse, whispering in a low, subtle voice that could rock the foundations of any soul.

_Let us go…there is much work to be done._

The steed shakes his head as its cropped main wisps in the breeze, along with his shortened tail. The animal had no hair as its skin gleamed in the pale moonlight, revealing its insipid flesh. Unlike the other horses that the other Horsemen rode, Death's was an extension of himself. The beast was like another set of legs, only to move at his will and not for the will of another.

The animal moves around, twitching its ears to a familiar caw that shrieked in the horizon. Death looked up into the sky, listening attentively to a creature calling to him. Death turned to his right side as a cawing, black bird flew towards him. Death extended his arm, waiting patiently as the Raven carefully landed on his forearm, shuffling its straggly wings and proceeds to fold them above its breast.

"So what news have you found?" Death asked, his eyes glistening under the strands of his flowing, white locks. The bird shook it's body, while glaring at Death with its glowing beady eyes.

"I see…" the Horseman replied, listening to his familiar, his ally. He could hear the bird's thoughts, shifting its posture as it hopped along his arm and takes its place on his shoulder. Death chuckled for a moment, but soon fell back into gloom while stroking his steed's neck, rolling his hand over the cropped main as the horse gave a satisfying grunt.

"Well then, we must move quickly," Death ponders out loud. As his horse turns to clop down onto the plain ahead, another neaing is heard from a distance as one other rider approaches, moving quickly while pushing through the accumulated dust that covered the land. The gallop could be heard more clearly as Death turned to the rider on a frisky steed.

"What took you so long, Strife?" the Horseman scowled in a low, grinding, yet calm voice.

The Horseman, known as Strife, slowed his antsy steed as he shifted the beast to the side to face the senior Horseman.

"Nothing here comes to memory…it's as if all that was once familiar is now just a shadow…and the shadows here bite, _by the way,"_ Strife sneered, annoyed by the empty crust of the Earth. Anything that he may have once remembered was desolate shells. Strife continued to rant,

"All that is left of the buildings here is just skeletal remains…there is no memory of this place! How will War ever survive before his day in court when Hell has turned everything upside down here?"

"There are still allies in the deepest parts of the Earth…the Elementals have severed their communion with the Charred Council."

"The Elementals have turned feral. How can they be trusted?"

"If you cannot trust in them, then at least trust in me," Death spoke in a composed tone, "…I already have a few witnesses in place, but more is needed to satisfy the Law."

Strife's brow shifted under his faceplate, pulling his green cloak to his front as the wind pushed around the two Horsemen.

"Can we even find a fair trial with the Charred Council, now that their exploits have been discovered?"

"Even _they_ cannot upset the integrity of the Law…a covenant that was set long ago by the Creator…to stray from that will seal _their_ fate. They know this….which is why they have a bounty for War's extradition…dead or alive. _Preferably_ dead."

"Then we have to move quickly,"

"Quickly yes, but not carelessly…remember, the Council will not tolerate slackness from _no one_…especially from me. This is a dangerous time for all of us if not handled with care."

"Understood," Strife says as he lowers his head in agreement. Death raises his arm as the Raven with glowing eyes jumps up and moves to his hand,

"_Go_…find War, and watch over him. He may need my console, but I fear if we meet, the Council may charge me for his execution."

The Raven squawked before jumping into the air, flapping it's large black wings and flies towards the east, into a curtain of ash that was stirred in the air from the wind.

"All of the forces are against War, how will he manage?" asks Strife.

"There are other forces at work here that are for him...not all are blind to great scandal," Death reminds him.

"…and what of us?" Strife continues, "…Fury has been roaming aimlessly, and she grows impatient,"

"She will _learn_ to be patience...but in the meantime, see if both of you can distract the armies of Heaven from finding him,"

"…and what of the armies of Hell?"

"They will have their hands tied soon enough…my only hope is that I can salvage War's innocence before those events transpire into fruition."

Death's closed his glowing eyes, his brow pulling in as his expression grows sullen,

"…if we cannot bring our forces together before these tribulations, then none may survive the next holocaust."

* * *

_Greetings and thank you for reading._

_Although my goal is to keep with canon, my resources is limited since I do not have access to the comic (I don't have a PS3, I have X-Box, so I didn't get the comic...corporate bastards), only the game and the wikia, so please forgive me if something seems out of text and leave feedback so that I may remedy those errors, if possible._

_Well, as with most first chapters, I was hoping to set the general mood of the story, starting with a prologue during one of Europe's most deadly catastrophe's; The Great Plague. Although the details are vague, eventually they will be revealed as the story progresses. In the meantime, feedback is welcome, mostly on how the beginning came into sync._

_Please continue to the next chapter at your convenience._


	3. Chapter 2 Vagabonds

**Chapter 2: Vagabonds**

_...and the earth becomes my throne  
I adapt to the unknown  
under wandering stars I've grown  
by myself but not alone  
I ask no one_

_...and my ties are severed clean  
the less I have the more I gain  
off the beaten path I reign  
rover wanderer  
nomad vagabond  
call me what you will._

_Metallica_

_Wherever I May Roam_

The sound of a stampeding horse can be heard through the dusty valley, like a thunderous gallop, pacing in rhythm under the hooves of Ruin, the loyal steed of War. Ahead of the Horseman awaited a welcoming party of Demonic Guards, peons of Samaels' massive armies, holding an enormous Demon, the monstrous Trauma, at bay with chains, waiting to set the creature loose on the Horseman. As the Trauma shook it's heavy head, searching for the Horseman's scent, his demeanor became agitated.

"_The Horseman is near…"_ one of the guards blurted out, as many of the others follow,

"…_it's the Horseman…"_

"_He is here…"_

"…_death to the Horseman…since Death will not do the job!"_

The soldiers of Hell lash with their insults and profanities as the Horseman War came nearer, slowing his massive stallion Ruin, a horse only known to those whom are familiar with his tale. The minions steady their blades as they get a visual of the menacing creature on four legs, pounding the ground with its massive hooves.

War was at hand, branding the Abyssal Armor as its components glistened under the afterglow of the afternoon sun, peering through the dust that was disheveled from the breeze. He kept his gaze forward, watching with glowing eyes that illuminated under his dark hood while his long, white locks of hair hung in the front, over his armored chest.

He was the emblem that all warriors marveled, fearless and without remorse, but chivalrous in keeping to the code that the Nephilim always honored. After the events that unfolded days before, he roamed the Earth as thoughts flowed one after another, contemplating his next move, but it felt tedious. Knowing that the armies of Heaven and Hell will come for him, and that the Council placed a bounty on him, War welcomed the test, as one by one, he began to mull down Hell's outposts in the great valley.

Once known as the beautiful San Joaquin Valley of California, it is now a gathering heap of ash as the surrounding rural, human cities lie in waste, becoming the perfect staging grounds for amassing Hells armies. Yet, despite his triumph over one outpost after another, any information that he hoped to gather was little at best. _Could this outpost be different?_

Nevertheless, War marched on without hindrance, moving under the vigor of his steed, Ruin. As tale be told, the horse was a force to be reckoned with indeed. The beast stood tall with fire pulsing from its mane and tail, while his hooves were flames that scorched the ground under each step and laid to waste a trail with each gallop. The stallion was a walking inferno as fire breathed from its nostrils, pulsing with each breath while its eyes burned in fury.

"_The beast approaches with it's rider, the bastard Nephilim,"_ a Centurion commander shouted, readying his men for the chaos that they where preparing to unleash as the Trauma snarled in ferocity.

As the Horseman closed in, suddenly from the around the boulders that scattered around clumps of stone ruins that laid partially buried in the sand, a pack of Fellbeasts with their Demon riders emerged from behind the broken pillars. War could hear the snarling and clamping of the Fellbeasts jaws, as the hair on their backs stood on end while their riders clung to the harness that was attached to their saddles, allowing the beasts to use their massive jaws as weapons against the duo.

The Centurion roared over the noise of the crowd,

"_Release him!"_

As the chains rattled with each sway of the Trauma, the minions that were holding him back released the chains from their grasp. The Demon let out a ground shattering bellow before taking off towards War, charging menacingly. War stood his ground as he remained saddled on Ruin while the enormous beast was closing in, rattling the ground from the contact of its charging feet. As the beast passed the other minions, the chains whip lashed across the vicinity, ripping chunks from the wooden posts that held the outpost platform while the other soldiers ducked, trying to evade the Trauma's lashing.

War quickly dismounted from Ruin as the horse filtered away in a fiery pyre, removing his sword, better known as Chaoseater, from his sheath. With a quick flinch of his wrist, War's arm and body followed, swinging the massive sword, moving under the Trauma's front leg to evade its massive claws, and impaled the oncoming Trauma into his chest from the two forces colliding into one. The beast shrieked as the blade burned, singing from the inside until War swung around, pulling it back out as blood and flesh followed.

Trauma buckled under the momentum of his own weight while War swung out from the creature's fall, coming to the ground hard, as debris scattered from the impact. War quickly jumped on top of the collapsed Trauma as he wrapped his hands around the handle of his sword, holding it up over the Trauma's exposed neck and dropped Chaoseater into the creatures' cervical spine, impaling the beast as the blade end of the sword could be seen, jutting from under Trauma's chin. It was then the beast went silent, shortly before War pulled his sword from the corpse that was once a menacing Demon, now a bleeding carcass.

War turned around to the war cry of fear as he listened attentively to the minions screaming at the slaughter of their prized Trauma.

"_Kill him….now!"_

"_Destroy this infidel…"_

Without any formal release, the minions began to charge at the lone Horseman. War looked up slowly from under his heavy hood as he peered into the plight of his enemy, calmly muttering to himself, _and so it begins._

As the minions moved in quickly, War was the first to anticipate the onslaught as he shifted his body slightly, and Chaoseater followed.

Within seconds, the Horseman severed in half, the first minion to come in his reach, as the blood flowed without cease with the other minions that followed shortly behind. The blade was quick to shear as it moved effortlessly through the bodies of War's foes. One could dare to say his form was graceful as the motions that make up his combat moved with fluidity and in rhythm without hesitation. It was as if War anticipated the movements of his enemy before they even got a chance to strike.

The Centurion watched from the platform above, burning in frustration as War decimated his army without exertion. Fear swelled into his demeanor and rashness followed, compelling the Centurion to roar out to the riders on the Fellbeasts,

"_Charge…destroy the Horseman...now!"_

Yanking the hair that was standing on their backs, the Demon riders induced their beasts to rush at the Horseman. From a distance, War could see the riders move and quickly summoned his steed, Ruin, as the fiery pyre bursts out from underneath him. The steed jumped out from the inferno, propping War onto his back.

Moving as if the two were one, War and Ruin charged at the Demon cavalry head on, rising from the flames that pushed Ruin across the terrain with power and speed. With Chaoeseater in hand, War began to twist his body from the hip as his waist followed, preparing for the first kill that entered his line of sight. Within seconds, the two forces met in a calamity of fire, shearing, and blood.

The first rider toppled off of his Fellbeast when War's sword pierces into the snarling creature's mouth, stopping it in its tracks. Ruin pulled back from the gagging Fellbeast as War thrusts the sword further, tearing into its throat as the flailing beast began to subside. With a push from his boot, War pulled Chaoseater from the Fellbeasts' dead jaws and whipped back around, swinging the sword into another rider that was grazing by, severing off the head while Ruin kicked the Fellbeast away with his scorching hoof to avoid its clamping jaws.

The fallen rider managed to get himself up, only to be trampled to death by two more riders that where attempting to rush the Horseman and his steed before they would have a chance to retaliate. Nevertheless, they were still a split second too late as War already anticipated their charge and Ruin moved to the side to graze one of the riders as War's sword impaled his Fellbeast. Skewering the monster along it's ribcage to it's gut, the Fellbeast wailed in agony as its bowls come undone from the deep cut, throwing the rider out of the saddle and onto the dusty ground. The other rider pulled his Fellbeast back and turned around, preparing for another charge while the Fallen rider gathered himself up and managed to mount the free-roaming Fellbeast nearby.

Ruin turned around to the riders ahead of them, huffing as flames protrude from his nostrils, shaking the sand off of his head, while War looked forward, feeling his gaze pull elsewhere, compelling him to stay his ground. The air took a turn as more minions began to enter the fray, coming out single file from the wooden platforms above. Rushing to the sandy grounds, bearing their swords and axes, the archers lined up on the overhang nearby, readying their bows and crossbows.

The weight of the atmosphere grew heavy as the Centurion watched the last of his army, gather into the arena. The Centurion let out a guttural laugh, watching his minions encircle the Horseman and his steed.

"_This shall be a day to remember…when the armies of Hell hand your head over to the Council…and then the Council will find favor with Hell,"_ he bellowed out, followed by the clamoring and shouting of his minions.

"_Is my head really worth that much? Does the armies of Heaven follow the same motive for my capture…or death?"_

This was the first news that War had ever heard concerning the Council's orchestration of his demise. He knew that breaking the seventh seal would anger them, but without the other Horseman, any chance of clearing his name would be an endless waltz of political convention._ My case would never come to a close._

_There are other forces at work here that involved more than just Abaddon__'s arrogant ambitions,_ a subtle voice pulsed through War's head.

The wrath that was once potent in War's blood began to boil again, compelling him to search for answers as he peered directly towards the conceited Centurion still standing behind his army, letting out a slight, but clearly audible growl,

"I'm not through with you yet."

The Centurion stood back slightly as the voice of War shook him. In shock, he sneered,

"_After him…bring me his head!"_

The dust on the ground was disheveled between the stomping of feet and the breeze that grazed in between the masses. The minions charged in, branding their blades in a futile attempt against the unmatched force of Chaoseater that was held comfortably in War's hand. Ruin clomped his feet on the ground as the dust quivered beneath is fiery hooves.

Without warning, Ruin darted off in the direction of the oncoming army. Dashing into the masses of minions, Ruin trampled those that were in his way, pushing effortlessly while War kept his eye on the Centurion ahead on the platform above. As Ruin continued to run through the array of Hell's peons, War carefully pulled his feet up onto Ruin's back, clinging to the saddle, preparing to leap as Ruin ran closer to the wooden platform above. Within reasonable jumping distance, Ruin pushed off the ground with a charge, leaping up while War in turn leapt from Ruins' back, using Ruins momentum to thrust him further up until War reached the platform, barely grabbing the ledge quickly before gravity started to pull him back down.

Hanging with his gauntlet hand, buried into the wood, War reached with his free, right hand, grabbing the ledge as he pulled up, thrusting himself up on the platform onto both feet, standing before the dumbstruck, Centurion. War reached for his sword and holds it out in front of him,

"You have answers…give them to me, and I will make your death quick…" said the Horseman.

The Centurion just snarled as he too pulled out his weapon,

"_May the Council rip your scalp by the hair on your head, and hang it for all to see…"_ the Centurion scoffed. Shortly after his mocking speech, he charged towards the Horseman, bringing his sword down on Chaoseater as sparks scattered in all directions, putting more force down with his blade, but the singe that was scalding from Chaoseater began to weaken the Centurions' blade. Until it could no longer endure the power, throbbing from Chaoeseater, the blade snapped as shards were strewn in all directions, including one that became embedded in the Centurions eye. He howled in pain before dropping his broken sword, clutching his eye that was bleeding profusely.

War calmly walked forward as he peered down at the Centurion still wailing and clutching his eye,

"Will you yield to my request?" the Horseman asked one last time. The Centurion looked up, panting as he took in a deep breath and leaned forward to spit on War's Abyssal Armor.

Without second guessing, War quickly whipped around as Chaoseater swung with him, splitting the air around the Centurion in two. The Centurion just sat idle for a moment, serene and quiet as his head began to lean to the side and then toppled off as his body followed, slumping in its place. What was left of the Centurions' post began to roar in fury at the death of their commander,

"_Destroy the Horseman…"_ they sneered, one after another. War looked over the chanting crowd of Demons as they barked and ridiculed him. It didn't take long for the crowd to become antsy as they started to close in. Readying his sword, War leaned back and then leapt off from the platform until he came crashing down to the ground, folding under his weight. Still kneeling from the impact, War slowly looked up, peering through the cloud of debris and dust that was still lingering in the air from his landing. The minions looked around in confusion as the dust started to settle, revealing their foe that was staring at them with spite illuminating from his eyes.

But before the confrontation could commence, a subtle sound, like the faint flapping of butterfly wings was festering between the masses, graced with its presence as the sounds of coughing and gagging began to strangle the army of Demons while spores rise from the surface of the ground. Choking on the air around them, one by one the minions drop to the dusty ground, engulfed by the green-grayish spores that hung in the air. Their swords and armor began to erode, as the pestilence ate away at the metal, profusely until all that was left was shards.

War stood back from the predicament as he watched in borderline horror and puzzlement to the remnants of Hell's outpost, suffocating on their own mucus that was quickly building in their lungs like a rapid epidemic of pneumonia. All was gagging on the pestilence except for the Horseman and his steed, which disturbed him even more. One by one, the guards fell, eaten away by a rapid corroding pathogen as flesh is drained of fluids and the bodies deflate into the crust of the land.

The spores that hovered in the air around the desecrated outpost began to settle back onto the dust of the dry land. Ruin shook nervously, stepping away from the fog of spores that started to settle on the ground. War looked around, trying to find the logic of what had just transpired. _What strange occurrence is this?_

Then, a chilling voice was heard coming from above,

"_Greetings Horseman…can I assume that you are well and unharmed?"_

The sound only made Ruin even more nervous as he shook his main while stomping his feet, trying to tune into the direction of the voice that sounded like a collaboration of the shrilling from a Cicada, and the quivering reverb from a bell.

War looked up as he started to speak, seeing if the entity would reveal itself with its voice again.

"My welfare is the least of your concern…but that which you have entered into the arena, uninvited, is _mine."_

War sat idle, waiting for a response.

"_Indeed you would be correct, Horseman…my sincerest apologies for my transgression. It was not meant to displease you, or your familiar…but I must discuss to you my intentions,"_ the voice respectfully responded. The civility that was expressed from the entity was a borderline oxymoron, _such respect coming from a voice so staggering was a rarity indeed._ This aroused War's curiosity even more,

"…and who, do I owe my gratitude…for desecrating an army that I could have handled myself without consequence?"

A silence followed after War's rebuke, hoping to get a rise out of the entity so that that it may reveal itself to him. War didn't like the fact that it was hiding from him.

"_Again, if it would please you, I insist your audience concerning my intentions…"_

"Then reveal yourself to me before any discussion can commence!" War barked in annoyance as the entity was testing his patience.

Suddenly, a breeze stirred across the outpost as the dust swirled into the air, pushing up the particles into a slender dust devil. Ruin began to snort while backing up at the same time next to War. War stood idle to the commotion that was around them, while the small cyclone contorted up onto an overhang nearby as the spores rose from the ground, clouding up on the overhang.

Suddenly, the ground underneath the outpost began to crack as strings of fibrous, organic vines, pushed from the ground, shooting upward while wrapping it's tentacles around the structure of the outpost, choking the logs that held the platforms in their places. The dark, rapid growing vines stretched all around the vicinity, engulfing the outpost with its coils, until it consumed the structure entirely.

After the growth began to subside, the shrilling voice could be heard again,

"_I, am an Elemental…"_ the entity said, its' voice becoming more audible as a strange dark, humanoid figure emerged on the overhang nearby. It glared at the horseman with glowing green eyes,

"…although the other Elementals and humans have called me by many names, the Heavens and the cronies of Hell call me _Plague."_

* * *

_Well, hopefully you're enjoying it so far...I will attempt to post on a shedule, most likely bi-weekly to allow some room for editing._

_When I wrote the fighting sequence between War and Hell's platoons, I wanted to keep it in the original atmosphere that is also in the game, so the audience (whom are familiar with the games) can relate to the sequences thereof. Granted, although in this chapter, War's confrontation is effortless, I am basing this on the assumption that War has retrieved almost, if not all of his powers before his condemnation from the Charred Council._

_Again, feedback is welcome, as I attempt to improve the work._


	4. Chapter 3 In Present Company

**Chapter 3: In Present Company**

_Where do we go when we just don't know  
And how do we relight the flame when it's cold  
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing  
And when will we learn to control_

_Serenity_

_Godsmack_

The air hung, awkwardly heavy around the creature known as Plague, standing at ease on a near ledge looking down at the Horseman War. Its demeanor was neither threatening, nor unmoving, but the lithe frame that made up the Elementals' form was long and menacingly statuesque.

Its' body was encrusted with a organic armor, wrapped around its humanoid limbs with dark threads and fibers that extended from it's core to the tips of it's digits, stretching out with a impressive reach. The fingers on its hands alone where long and sharp like thorns while the feet were clamored with talons. The creature was lean in build, contrary to some of the other Elementals' but just as resilient, if not more so.

War could only guess that its true form was somewhere underneath the crust of the organic shell, while its facade was concealed behind a mask that was encrusted to a tendril helmet. The mask was intricate in detail, reminiscent of an ancient Chinese, Fu guardian lion, sculptures that War recalled were displayed in front of the Forbidden Palace. The snout was short, displaying wide jowls as its bottom canines protruded from its lip like short, blunt tusks. The eyes where large and sat underneath it's heavy brow while the detailed pupils in the sockets glowed with a luminescent green light. If Plague wasn't so cordial, the Elemental couldn't help but to look menacing, and the hideous, dark shrill in its voice only added to its monstrosity. _Perhaps this is just a front_, War pondered.

Hovering behind the mask in the back of Plague's head was long tendrils that would sway in the air constantly, somewhat resembling the creature, Medusa. The dreadlock tendrils extended to Plagues' waist, waving slowly, like an anemone on a coral reef.

Plague knelt down in a refined manor, keeping its posture erect while its glowing eyes met with War's.

"Your assistance is not needed, Elemental…go, and salvage what is left of your world," the Horseman sneered in a low, grumbling voice while gathering his sword that was wedged into the crust of the Earth.

"I would not question your capabilities Horseman…as rumor has it, you are a warrior worth more than ten of the highest virtues," the Elemental complimented.

"Is that so," War turned his glance back to Plague after he loaded Chaoseater onto his back. His gaze was no more than a look of suspicion as he peered at the creature from a somewhat comfortable distance. Yet, the Elemental could sense War's mistrust as Plague continued,

"I would comply to your earlier request is if I had the means to do so…however, my instructions where very meticulous and to deviate from them would be…a calamity on my part."

"And what instructions where these?" asked War as he raised his brow with suspicion.

"I was ordered by my master to assist you in your quest while keeping you alive and well for your day of "judgment."

"…and if I refuse?"

"Neither one of us was given an option concerning such defiance. My master was very insistent that I stay by your side for at least two, Earth weeks…if then, you feel that my services are no longer needed, then I can comply to your request,'

"…and?"

"…I will respect your wishes as your servant…with no repercussions," the creature Plague responded without offense.

War growled to himself, realizing that he was going to be stuck with this Elemental far longer than he really wanted, or cared to know. War couldn't shake his previous experience with the Council's assigned warden, the Watcher, which began and ended on sour terms. He never, otherwise, felt the need for a familiar, other than his steed, Ruin. For centuries, this was his lot in his existence, to roam in solitude, but now, he roams between exile with a warrant for his capture, or his head. Any trust that he may have had to give was long spent.

Now, he is locked with some awkward communion with this creature who insists in sharing his company by the directive of some authority. _His master is probably an abrasive ass…_

The Horseman turned around and started to walk towards his steed when Plague quickly dove from the ledge to the ground like a cat jumping from a tree, landing feet first. War quickly whipped around, with his sword in hand as he yanked the blade out, coming down hard in Plagues' direction, only to come clamming it back down into the Earth, missing Plague by a few inches while the Elemental stood in his place, poised, as if it had nothing to fear. The dust from the impact was still hovering in the air as the dead silence followed in the tight spaces between the two. War could then see the sincerity in Plagues' demeanor, peering into the Elemental's masked emotionless façade as the Elemental made no effort to retaliate, nor insult. _This one will is going to be difficult to read._

War's eyes scrunched underneath his brow, shadowed under his hood as he let out a sigh. He pulled the sword from the Earth, again, as he sat up erect to put Chaoseater on his back. It was then War knew that Plague's intentions were genuine, much to his annoyance, but nevertheless,

"Very well…I will entertain your company," War sneered as he turned his back towards Plague, peering over his shoulder, "...for now."

He hopped up to mount his steed, sliding effortlessly into the saddle as Ruin huffed and snorted, shaking his fiery mane. War turned and watched as Plague took a bow, gesturing his obedience to the goaded War.

"Now…which way do we go to find the Blackhammer?" War asked, testing the Elemental to prove how worthless the creature would be to him.

"Are you referring to Old One, _Ulthane_, m' Lord? The one whom forged the Armageddon Blade…the only blade that was capable of the Destroyer's fall?"

War frowned in disappointment. _He knows way too much for an Elemental…maybe his master is much more resourceful than I give credit for._

"The one and only…"

With Plagues' posture shifting to the side, the expression in Plagues eyes started to crescent with a peculiar stare,

"Of all places that you insist on going, m' Lord, you choose the place where the enemy will most likely find you. I strongly suggest another place…" Plague began to reason.

"…Ulthane is also a credible witness before the Council. He would be the first that the enemy will seek to destroy, to silence any who may have been involved…it is imperative that I reach him, Elemental!"

Plague brought its hand to its face as it let out a sigh. Despite Plague's insistence for War to change his mind, Plague could not dispute against War's logic. The spores that coated the shell of its armor sprung into a graying, green mist, hovering around the creature like a fume as Plague's demeanor changed slightly.

"I stand corrected…my apologies for my nearsightedness," Plague recited with a bow. Slowly turning towards the southeast, Plague pointed with its long, clawed finger, and spoke,

"This way, but I must concur,"

War let out a grumble at Plague's doggedness, "…fine…"

"It may be better for m' Lord's welfare if we take the pass of Velerian, which is south from here."

"…and for what reason that you suggest in going this, direction?"

"I could not in good conscience take my Lord down a path that is perilous…"

War growled at Plagues' sincerity that was coming close to insulting, "Are you aware that I can handle myself in all forms of combat?"

"I will not be as bold to question the obvious…most certainly am I aware that you are capable of many feats, as lore would have it," Plague assured War as it stepped around the Horseman on his steed from a safe distance within Ruin's potentially, devastating kick. Plague could tell that the stallion did not like him, "…but as I have mentioned before, I would have done a disservice to my Lord, and master, if I did not warn you of what lies ahead, and suggest a more, _prudent_ path."

War turned his gaze to the south just as Plague suggested, rummaging through his thoughts of his previous encounters of Hell's minions before, and although he continued to wear the Armageddon blade and the Abyssal Armor, none has ever been tested on the Elementals. Earth was _their_ domain, drawing their power from it like an infinite source of energy, channeling to it like an umbilical cord. Even if War's skills exceeded that of the Elemental's, one thing was for sure, if they have the resources similar to Plague's potential, they would be a force to reckon with indeed, if they chose to increase their potential by their numbers. _If what Plague says is true, then perhaps I should not test fate before my day in court,_

"_Sigh_…very well. We will take the southern path."

Plague's eyes met with delight as it bowed its head and stood back a few feet from the Horseman and his steed. Raising its arms out as its limbs began to morph, stretching its arms out to the length of another set of legs, Plague hopped down on all fours, walking while arching its back, strutting like a cheetah in a grassy field.

Plague turned over its shoulder as the tendrils that flowed from the back of its head, swayed to the side, revealing its mask while it glances at War,

"This way…we must get to the forest before dark…many nocturnal beasts will come out to hunt…and most of them are very territorial."

"Perfect," War groaned, patting Ruin on the neck while Ruin gave War a grunt of approval.

"Let us go, old friend. You may find amusement at this creature's expense," said War as Ruin gave what one would believe to be a low chuckle, bellowed from the steeds' deepened throat. War gave a satisfying grin as the two follow the four legged Plague through a long, desert like plain, wondering what the Lady of Fate has in store for them after the dark skies hang before them.

* * *

Running through the plains under a heavy mist that lingered in the air under the broad, overcast sky, Strife was graced by the galloping bright, steed that commanded the atmosphere around them, moving quickly while being followed by a platoon of Angels.

Strife looked over his shoulder, peering through his bronze mask as he hung to his white horse, one whom goes by the name of Conquest. The beast moved with elegance as it galloped with its head held erect and majestic, pushing from the ground with its legs that would set off sparks every time it would clomp the ground under his feathery hooves.

Although the Angels are normally slow in their haste when it concerned the Horsemen, these Angels were keeping up with the Nephilim on his antsy steed, most persistently. Without second guessing, Strife pulled his armored legs from the stirrups to place his feet on Conquests' back and leapt, pushing up and falling backwards as he pulled his legs in, thrusting his body into a back flip. Hanging into the air, he pulled out two pistols from his holsters, before he stretched his body out to gently touch the ground, landing onto his feet with a pistol in each hand.

Whipping around to face the Angelic soldiers that were pursuing him, he raised his guns towards the sky as the flapping of grandiose wings can be heard from the Angels closing in.

"Are you seeking condemnation…or do you seek Mercy?" the Nephilim scowled, standing straight as his short, white strands of hair, along with his green cloak, flowed in the breeze coming from the massive flapping wings. As the Angels came closer, they slowed their pace, hovering in the air with their platinum armor, gleaming in the sky above them. Strife stared in puzzlement, knowing that usually the Hellguard branded armor of gold or silver, and soon noticed that the markings where not that of Heaven's finest warriors. The commander of the force was the only one to land, extending out his arms and hands for Strife to see, showing his intentions while the other Angels pulled back their platinum weapons to extend the same gesture.

The Commander spoke without discernment,

"We only come to find company with the Nephalim, Death."

"Surely you didn't fly around this, _Hell, _unleashed Earth, searching for the Horseman on the White Steed, just so you can share audience with the Horseman Death," Strife sneered, suspicious of the Commander's purpose while still holding his guns in the Commander's direction.

"Death covers his tracks well, just so that the peons of Heaven would ever dare to follow," the Commander recited without hesitation, "…but the Angel of Death, has a much more sophisticated means for such things, but his hands are now tied, and he can only now communicate through his personal guard, the _Swords of Eden_."

Strife's expression shifted under his mask as his eyes glowed with poise,

"…and why would the detained, condemned Angel of Death have any interest with the Horsemen of the Apocalypse?" Strife asked.

"Before his detainment, Azrael foresaw another threat that will rise from the underworld…and now the Horseman Fury is in danger," the Commander responded as Strife's posture stiffened.

"That cannot be possible! Hell's armies are no match for the Four!"

"It is not Hell that keeps Fury prisoner,"

"…and how does Azrael come to know this?"

"Azrael has his sources…means that we cannot begin to fathom, but for his benefit, it is best that we didn't know."

"Can you at least tell me who has Fury?"

"The renegade Elemental's keep Fury in place…but because of Hell's dominion, our reach is short here on the Earth," the Commander explained as his posture shifted, "…and the one that the Council holds for Treason, is being pursued; therefore, our best alliance would be with you, Horseman Strife."

"The Horseman do not conspire with anyone. Not Hell, nor Heaven,"

"We do not desire to seek council with you for the sake of Heaven, but for the sake of events that are transpiring as we speak. As long as Azrael is bounded by the word of the Council, any evidence that could prove the condemned Horseman of any innocence will be _misplaced_, and the new threat will prevail if allowed to go too far"

Strife reiterated to himself his recent words with Death that still lingered in his head, concerning a great tribulation that will unfold if the Horsemen cannot reunite. _Perhaps that is the interest that Azrael has concerning Death's whereabouts. Although the Angel of Death spoke the truth concerning War's betrayal, he is still bound to Heaven's chambers._

"And what do you hear of War's welfare?" Strife asked as he lowered his weapons.

"It is rumored that a, _protector_, will guard War on this Earth before his last trial commences…but that is all we know for now."

"Prove your intentions to me, and take me to Fury."

"We can show you the way, but our force is small compared to the forces on the Earth. Our weapons are no match against the Elementals."

"Leave that to me," Strife spoke with authority as he taunted, "…but for the Angel of Death's personal guard, you certainly lack the means to protect him."

"Since when did the Angel of Death ever need protection?" the Commander responded as Strife looked up and peered into the Commander's glowing gaze, illuminating from his helmet,

"We were not chosen to be his "guards"…we were chosen to be his voice."

* * *

_With much of the Darksiders' universe being somewhat vague, I have chosen to name Strife's horse after the Horseman's original name, Conquest. Although the origins of the Horseman is loosely based on the biblical sense, I prefer to keep to some of the traditional means (hence keeping his horse white, while Death's horse is "pale" ) so that the audience has something that they can make a correlation to, while everything else that I speculate will be just that._

_Again feedback is welcome._


	5. Chapter 4 May It Be

**Chapter 4: May It Be**

_When we move, we camouflage ourselves,_

_We stand in the shadows waiting,_

_We live for this and nothing more,_

_We are what you created._

_~Thousand Foot Crutch~_

Clopping near a brook just outside of what used to be a gothic chapel, Death walked along with his steed, peering out over the waters as he waited for the Nymphs to respond to his presence. It was usual that Nymphs, female Elementals that dwelled in bodies of waters, would occasionally greet strangers, often seducing men to reveal their deepest inclinations.

Death could recall that the Nymphs had a talent for gossip and have long been known to cherish secrets. As rumor had it, the Nymphs have even gone as far as to beguile the Demons that roam freely on the Earth, coaxing them by whatever means necessary, even if it included unsanctified relations. If anyone knew anything of what is transpiring here, the Nymphs would be the most likely to know such things, but there is often a price for such information and Death wasn't going to belittle himself by endorsing their enticement for pleasure.

It was long established that the Elementals were to submit themselves to the Horsemen of the Apocalypse and allow them to referee the final battle that would end the war of all wars, but now, without the Council to mandate them, many of the Elementals have strayed from their objectives.

_But __perhaps __they __would __yield __to __a __different __means __of __persuasion_, Death pondered to himself.

The mist that hung over the brook was as thick as pea soup, making visibility next to impossible. Death, however resorted to his finer senses than the basics of sight, hearing, feeling, and scent. Most Elementals thrived on their ability to be either subtle or flagrant, while few would linger somewhere in between.

As the air around Death began to change, he could sense the Nymphs closing in,

_There's three of them…but so many for a modest pond._

As the atmosphere took a turn, Death calmly dismounted his scythe, greatly known to the very soul of the Earth as _The__Harvester_. He grips the snath with ease as if slipping on an old glove, perfectly balanced in his brace as the tang held the peculiar blade with perfect precision. It was the instrument of his calling. It was the Harvester that chose him, and with it, he could wield a force so unimaginable, the Earth would shudder to hear it scorned.

Soon, as the moonlight veiled the churning waters through the mist, three Nymphs slowly came to surface, peering with bright eyes as they glistened under the light of the moon. Their long, red locks of hair gave off a damp luster as they began to emerge from the calm water, pulling up from the weight of the brook. Their bodies, bare and pale, gleamed like porcelain, feeding off of the radiance that was illuminating from the sky. They were, in every sense as seductive as wild roses, venting their fragrance in the afternoon breeze to lure one in while branding thorns that where as sharp as swords. They prostrated themselves equally from each other as they surround the Horseman, slowly moving like a pride of lionesses, subtly enclosing on their prey.

"You didn't come here by accident, _Horseman __of __the __Apocalypse_…you were seeking our aid," one of the Nymphs hissed. Death made no gesture or expression of concern. His demeanor was utterly fearless, not giving anything away for the Elemental's amusement. This only frustrated the Nymphs as their usual strategy did not intimidate Death at the slightest inclination.

"I come to seek an Elemental to bear witness to what is transpiring in Hell" said Death, with authority. The Nymphs shuddered slightly from the Horseman's composed voice as his gaze stayed the same.

"If we knew anything concerning the affairs of Hell, what would be in it for us? What could the Horseman possibly have that would be of use to us, the very fabric that controls this world in all its splendor?"

"…and what splendor would that be? All I see is dust and decay, a once prosperous civilization buried in ash from its own cremation," Death sneered while at the same time, not coming across as condescending. The Nymphs could feel the weight of his words, putting them back into the bigger perspective of things. _A __good __steward __would __have __never __allowed __Hell __to __defile __their __world._

"You dare to tell us that we have become laxed in our craft?"

"I do not dare…I affirm."

This only made the Nymphs even more irate as their eyes beamed bright with malice, but the force that encircled Death and the Harvester was incredibly potent.

"Allow me to lend you this deal…in exchange for anything you may know of the other Elemental's whereabouts, I may be so bold as to let you live."

One of the Nymphs chuckled to herself as she approached the Horseman steadily like a cat moving slowly in the grass, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting bird.

"Is that so, Horseman?" she sneered while the others widened their stances.

"Do not mock me. I have given you a chance to assist me willingly,"

Just as quickly as Death would have spoken the next word, without hesitation, he whirled around with the Harvester in his grip, moving in a fluent motion as the scythe swung in motion of is caress and then returned to his previous stance.

"…do I have your attention now?"

Shortly after his statement, the Nymph that was moving close behind him stood cold in her tracks as pieces of her severed hair fell onto the mossy ground while her head started to lean, slowly until gravity finally pulled it down, rolling down her back as her body followed, slumping down onto the Earth. The other two Nymphs began to step back in shock, putting additional distance between them and the Horseman as he continued to stand erect and poised, just as he did prior to their meeting.

"What is it that you ask of us, Horseman?"

"I am seeking the Elemental known as Calamity. I understand that he bears witness to the events in which the Angels and Demons began their war in the downtown metropolis, where War first found about his betrayal."

"It is said that Calamity has fallen out of the good graces of the Council…and has since found refuge with his beloved Tempest…"

Death raised his brow, finding the alliance between the two powerful Elementals fascinating.

While Tempest was the Elemental in charge of the temperatures of the skies, Calamity controlled the shifting of the Earth's tectonic plates. Both held a powerful influence above other countless Elementals, _perhaps __they __have __managed __to __build __their __own __caste __structure __to __keep __some __order__…__one __can __only __hope __it __will __be __for __the __better._

The Nymphs continued to back off while Death turned and glided back to his steed.

"Calamity will not lower himself to associate with the likes of a Horseman of the Apocalypse," the Nymphs sneered at Death, now mounted on his pale horse.

"Then perhaps it would be better for me to seek an audience with Tempest, first…perhaps she will be more willing to assist me than _you_ have."

* * *

Wandering in the wilderness seemed like a trivial thing now for the Horseman War, considering he had wandered the Earth far longer than he anticipated after recent events. Now, he follows the Elemental Plague into an enclave underneath a cliff that hung over a secluded forest, one of which has remained since the fall of mankind. The Elementals of the rivers and streams, also known as Nymphs, continue to monitor the brooks, ponds, and other bodies of water scattered across the valley that fed the trees close by.

Here, a creek bled through the forest, nourishing the trees surrounding it, providing some refuge for that which is left of the creatures of the Earth. It is here, Plague finds sanctuary for the night from the nocturnal beasts that roam under the darkness, hunting for stray trespassers.

The night sky hung heavy with a brilliance of stars as Plague looked up from their refuge for the evening within a rocky cavern that was wedged near the bluff. Ruin shook his head, breathing in the cool air that festered the vicinity, standing idle and staring at their ill-felt company. Glaring at the Elemental with scorching eyes, Ruin pondered many times how one can trample a walking, talking, entity, made of the Earth's microbes. The Elemental seemed much too cordial to be trusted, and Ruin would be damned if War was to be betrayed again.

War on the other hand, declined to waste his energy or time trying to relate to the creature as he sat on a boulder nearby, waiting for sunrise since slumber was something he seldom needed, especially when he had been idle for centuries at a time. On occasion, he would turn to observe the Elemental, standing on its two legs like a humanoid again, staring at the sky. For what reason, War couldn't understand why Plague would stand and stare at the sky all night, _but __perhaps __these __Elementals __have __a __keen __sense __of __place __or __home._The concept however, had no meaning for War, as with anything else that would be of any relation to the stewards of the Earth, other than protecting humanity until the final confrontation commenced, but that has since been changed.

As the clouds began to roll over the canvas of stars, Plague then turned its attention to his guests. Much to War's demise, the Elemental couldn't help but to attempt to find an opportunity for courtesy, despite the gross shrill in Plague's voice.

"Do you find comfort here…or does this place bring you concern?" Plague asked before jumping onto boulder to kneel down on its hands and feet.

"By what means would I find, comfort?" War sneered, "…I have the armies of Heaven and Hell chasing after me, not to mention the bounty on my head that has been set by the Charred Council…tell, me Elemental, what words would you have me to bring me solace in this place?"

War glared at Plague, his brow hung heavy over his glowing eyes as he reached to gently pull back his hood, revealing a façade' that was obscure at best. His face was neither young, nor old, but worn as any warriors' would be. His long, white hair that hung from his crown, framed his face while the wisps' of a few strands fluttered in the light breeze. War was, for the most part, detached from all other emotion, save wrath, and Plague could sense it shivering in its bones. Why Plague could feel these things was unclear, but with that, Plague knew that War was indifferent concerning his welfare, with only to be avenged being his priority. _Such __a __waste __with __so __much __more __potential __than __this,_Plague pondered, feeling compassion for the Horseman.

"Perhaps I should rephrase my question," Plague began before War interrupted,

"No need, Elemental. I welcome the tribulation that seeks me,"

"If I may be so bold, why does the Horseman find delight in this dilemma?"

"Delight would not be my choice of words, Elemental,"

"Then would the Horseman be so kind as to enlighten me?"

"Of all the things you could be asking me, _damnit_, why do you find my circumstances of such interest?" War growled, "…who is your master, and why did he feel that I would _ever __need_ a creature like you for my welfare?"

Plague tilted its head in puzzlement as War just glared, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing, wondering why anyone would be so bold as to have him "looked after," much less protected. Plague pulled its legs in and crossed them, sitting "Indian style" on the very boulder he was perched on earlier. The slight expression that Plague could make known was still somewhat opaque, until it spoke with its hideous voice,

"My master has also made it clear to me that I am not to reveal his identity to you…"

As sudden as the sentence shrilled from Plague's core, Ruin let out a slight chuckle, finding the conversation rather comical at War's pitiless attempt to interpret this thing. War turned his glare over to Ruin as he gave him a look of annoyance,

"I'm so glad you find this droll," War scoffed. Ruin could only snort in response while Plague stepped back into the conversation,

"Believe me when I say, Horseman, that I would gladly give you anything you ask of me…"

"Does that include standing back on all fours and barking like a dog?" War mocked as Ruin huffed in amusement, "…or perhaps roll on your stomach like a worm."

"If that would bring a smile to your hardened face, Horseman War," the Elemental replied without sarcasm, "…then I will oblige…under the condition that you would eventually have to answer to my master for my _odd_ behavior._"_

War looked up a Plague as he lifted an eyebrow in awe.

"Is that so?" War snickered, finding the whole idea to be witty, especially since Plague was odd enough to begin with.

"I will not presume, nor be as bold as to question the grander scheme of things that relate to your plight…I am merely a servant, and my instructions were made very clear,"

"Well then Elemental, perhaps I should have you wear a dress and dance for the peons of Hell as a distraction for my escape, since you seem bent to preserve my wellbeing."

"Surely the great Horseman War could find a more, _original_ means of distraction to aid in his quest than putting me on display for the sake of my humiliation."

As the words flowed from Plagues' tranquil demeanor, the phrase almost seemed borderline clever if not mocking as War's smirk quickly fell into a frown. Ruin could be heard snorting, shaking his head at the same time, picking up on the apprehension growing in the spaces between the two before War's expression soon widened into astonishment.

"So, you _can_ speak for yourself, Elemental," the Horseman said, somewhat stepping out of his wrath just for the moment, finding amusement in conversing with this thing, whatever it was that could turn his words against him while complimenting him at the same time. _Only __something __so __clever __could __be __a __product __of __something __grander__…__perhaps __Plague __is __a __genuine __mark __of __whatever __seeks __to __salvage __me __from __my __conviction._

"Again, only if it gives you serenity from the plight that plagues you…" said the Elemental, choosing its words rather quaintly.

"What are you, really?" War questioned, wondering perhaps he could better understand Plague's master if he knew what the Elemental's origins were from. _Is __there __something __more __under __this __twisted __shell __of __a __thing?_

"The same as the others," Plague simply replied.

"It was said that the Elementals are remnants of the Third kingdom…distinctively chosen from humanity to manage the Earth for the Creator, keeping everything set in motion until the last battle commenced."

"And this, you would be correct, m'Lord."

"So what was your real name, before your assignment?"

Plague sat up from its position as the microbes that made up its outer shell began to compact, making the coating more dense. War began to sense that the question made the Elemental awkward, but Plague answered the Horseman, just as it said it would.

"My most humble pardons, m'Lord, but my master has also instructed me not to reveal my identity as well…"

War's demeanor quickly shifted into irritation.

"Then by what reason should I even trust a creature that refuses to even do something as trivial as revealing its damn name?"

"I must admit, Horseman, you do bring up a reasonable complaint…however, as I have mentioned before…"

"Yes, yes…your master has made his instructions clear," War barked in exasperation, realizing that the conversation for the most part was going nowhere, "…and I have made my decision."

Plague looked up at the Horseman, listening attentively while War set his motions.

"When your time is expired, I will not hesitate to send you back to your master with a message that I will give you shortly before your departure," the Horseman scoffed.

With that said, Plague humbly bowed its head, without a word or gesture but in utmost compliance. Plague then turned around, sitting in poise and resumed looking out into the void, peering into the night air that hovered the valley. War could hear Plague let out a soothing sigh as its demeanor turned placid. With all things that were said, War was still cynical, still not taking Plague at face value despite Plague's mannerisms.

As War started to drift in thought, the air around them was becoming smothering as Ruin started to get antsy, shaking his mane while letting out a nervous grumbling. War's demeanor started to tense as subtle noises outside of the usual, nighttime symphony of birds crackling and cicadas shrilling. He could feel that something or somethings was encroaching their space as the faintly glowing eyes peer at them from a distance.

War looked out from their refuge and could see faint silhouettes of beasts, waiting in idle outside as they kept their distance, staring at the group with hostility in their burning eyes, yet they dared not to venture further. War slowly stood up as he began to peer back, wondering what these beasts were waiting for.

"They will not trespass, m'Lord," Plague said while still sitting away from War, peering out towards the ogling creature's just outside.

"If they are so territorial, why do they not run us out?" War asked, wondering what it was that they were afraid of. Plague took in a deep breath and just exhaled serenely, as if the monsters outside was not of any threat.

"Most keep their distance from Plague…they do not like my company," Plague answered as a matter-of-factly. _Can't __imagine __why_, War grumbled to himself as his expression shifted into a pyre of curiosity that he once pondered since he was escorted by Plague. _Is __this __creature __so __friendless, __that __he __would __rather __be __in __the __company __of __a __wrathful __Horseman, __than __wonder __alone, __undisturbed __in __this __world?_

Suddenly, Plague inhaled slowly, and then let out a low, scraping growl that bellowed from deep within its core. The noise was long and slow, echoing over the noise coming from the creatures that waited for them. Without delay the beasts left, leaving them alone as the crowd dissipated. Within minutes, the night went back to calm as the three wanderers sat and waited till sunrise, before they departed to visit a known merchant of rare artifacts, one whom War has come to find acquaintance in the most peculiar of circumstances.

* * *

_Ugh, although I can upload documents again, it's still on the fritz so it will be more time consuming having to re-edit...but the story is in progression. I have alot of fun illustrating War's demeanor, using both Ruin and Plague as catalysts to set off his little quirks that gives War some personality, while keeping his emotional state (other than wrath) subtle and still somewhat opaque, just as it was in the game/comic. In the game, there are some subtle hints that gives evidence to my theory that War was not always a cold, emotionless war machine, but this is just speculation on my part. _

_Again, feedback is welcome._


	6. Chapter 5 The Swords of Eden

**Chapter 5: The Swords of Eden**

A squad of Angels, who called themselves, _The Swords of Eden_, led the Horseman Strife near a canyon that was long wedged by a winding river that cut deep caverns into the rock below. The commander of the Swords of Eden, landed next to the edge of the cliff, looking down as he turned to Strife, mounted on his white steed known to many as Conquest.

The horse slowed down, peering at the Angel whom managed to find an audience with the Horseman, despite the dispute presently taking place within Heaven's Council, the _Circle of Seraphim. _

Among the elders whom made up the council were the archangels Michael and Gabriel, the youngest of the council, Raphael, and an old warrior, Ulsile. For Earth's centuries have they long debated over the comings and goings, concerning Hell's dominion in the deep cores of the Earth, watching and waiting, but Abaddon had long insisted that Hell's armies were growing too fast and too powerful to be ignored. But the _Council of Seraphim_ rejected Abaddon's requests concerning making the move against Hell without evidence, and after many centuries of trying to win the Council's blessing for amassing an army against Hell, Abaddon took matters into his own hands. It was not without a heavy price.

As the commander waited for Strife to join him near the edge of the cliff, the Angel then removed his helmet, revealing a glowing façade that was like porcelain with long blonde hair that was tied back on his crown like a mohawk, while the side of his scalp was cropped short, wisping in the breeze that encircled them.

He turned out towards the canyon and lifted his hand as he points into the valley ahead,

"_There_…between the great wall and the river, there lies a fortress, that runs deep into the underground," the Commander continued, "…in it, Fury is trapped by the Elemental they call _Pandemonium_."

"…and what am I to fear from this, _Pandemonium?"_ the Horseman sneered, gripping his pistol, Mercy in his tight hand.

"The Elemental has been known to decimate hordes of Demons at a time. We have heard that he carries a weapon, a massive flail the others call _Affliction._ They say, under its weight is the utmost of devastation. He also has a firearm that he calls, _Suffering_…we have never seen him or have known his whereabouts before, until we came across the Nymphs that reside at the mouth of this river,"

"The Nymphs?" Strife pondered,

"Elementals that govern the bodies of water…they possess and share many secrets."

"…and why would they tell a handful of Angels about the whereabouts of a Horseman of the Apocalypse?"

"An elder Elemental, the Siren of the Pacific, _Dionne_, has long warned Azrael about what has been transpiring in Hell, but had little proof to call for Council intervention. Her maidens, the Nymphs know whom we speak for."

"How is this possible?"

"Ever since the failed Apocalypse, the _Council of Seraphim _has been divided, weakening the Council's ability to govern Heaven…as a result, the Angels have grown jaded. Azrael has long known that the _Seraphim_ would be powerless without unity, so in the wake of being prepared, he summoned a handful of Heaven's most noble of _Cherubim_ to be his eyes and ears, when and if the _Seraphim _lost their jurisdiction over the Cherub armies. He then formed what you know now as the _Swords of Eden_. We have wandered the Earth, seeking the Elementals and communing with them, so that all of Earth knows our presence."

"Then why have they acted hostile against you?"

"The same reason they have acted hostile against your fellow Horsemen…and with Azreal's powers now under a ball and chain, our reach is limited. However, we can still keep in contact with the Angel of Death…"

"…and what does he say to you now, Cherub?"

"The only way that we can salvage this world is if the Horsemen of the Apocalypse mend as one…_only then_, will your powers be enough to possibly defeat the great tribulation that will transpire from Hell."

Strife's eyes glowed in admiration, knowing now that the commander wasn't being deceptive in any way. _It must be of great importance if even Azrael fears this soon coming, tribulation._

"…and what is it that Azrael fears so much?" Strife asked as the commander removed his glowing blade from his sheath,

"The Demon Lord, _Mephistopheles_…but first, we must salvage your fellow Horseman, Nephilim," said the commander as the other Angels followed suit while Strife held Mercy in his hand and the reins to conquest in the other,

"Then let us go…and find this, _Pandemonium_."

* * *

Flying through the dry air above the desert plain, the Raven found the remnants of what once used to be a great, redwood tree, with a trunk that could span a twelve foot, radius. Now, all that remains is nothing more than just a withering carcass, full of rot and termites, while it's once massive limbs are now sawed down into nubbins.

The Raven finds a place to perch on the decayed tree, while looking out into the nothing, sitting and waiting as some travelers come into his sight, walking through the endless sea of sand and dust, just ashes of what once used to be a thriving human populous, now a desert of decay.

As the heat radiates from the ground, stirring the optics with illusions, the Raven looked past the mirage, still gazing at the vagabonds coming closer as they travel towards his direction. The breeze pushed past them as the wind carried the scent of brimstone, a familiar scent that was long known the odor from the steed of Ruin.

Clopping through the heavy sand, Ruin picked up his knees while War did the same, pushing through the mid-calf sand while the creature that preceded them, moved on all fours with fluidity above the ground, as if it was weightless. Plague kept the pace going smoothly as War followed from a set distance while Ruin clopped beside him.

The air was growing heavy from the scorching sun while War kept his hood over his head from the beating rays, as drops of sweat rolled down the side of his face, dampening his hair. Ruin was just as sober from the heat, occasionally shaking his head to keep moisture that was accumulating on the bridge of his nose from stinging his burning orifices. Occasionally whipping his tail, shaking the perspiration that was rolling down his back, Ruin snorted while shaking his head some more.

It seemed as if hours have passed since they got up that morning to venture out into the dusty valley, trying to reach a gateway that was hidden somewhere in the canyon nearby. Plague had insisted that the canyon would offer more protection from the withering sun while searching for a entrance to a Serpent Hole, to find the merchant of many trades, Vulgrim.

With the time passing slowly, War finally gave into the boredom that accompanied him on the journey, so without further hesitation, he decided to make Plague useful.

"_Groan_…tell me Elemental, what do you know of the dealings between Heaven and Hell?" War asked, wondering what all that Plague may know, or don't know, concerning the duel of fates. Plague looked over it's shoulder, somewhat surprised that the Horseman would even summon the urge to carry a conversation with a creature he found annoying. Nevertheless, Plague obliged, as always,

"I only know that the truce between the two has been in limbo for a very long time, waiting for the kingdom of Man to rise out of weakness. It was part of _my_ duty to strengthen them."

War raised a brow, catching interest in Plague's involvement in this world. It never occurred to him that this compassionate being was capable of a great genocide, more than War could ever accomplish on his own, only to be outdone by the Elemental that can summon pathogens at will.

"Do not misunderstand, m'Lord…I do not find delight in causing ailment to any of His creations," Plague made a point to mention.

"…and yet, you do not regret…Plague?"

Plague lifted it's head, now realizing, for the first time, that War had finally called it by its name. Somewhat curious as to the change in demeanor by the Horseman, Plague shook the forethought and continued with the conversation,

"All that the Creator summons us to do, serves a purpose…just as you serve a purpose, despite your "occupation."

"So, do you _disapprove_ my, _profession?"_

"It is not my place to sanction anything outside of the will of the Creator, m'Lord…but I do not find greatness, nor valor in _killing, _either_. _It is nothing personal."

War let out a slight chuckle, coming to realize that Plague was self-conscience after all. This only made it even more easier to interpret Plague,

"I see…for a creature that has decimated civilizations with a single swoop, I find it comical that you identify yourself as a _pacifist_."

Plague was silent for a moment as they continued towards the canyon, not making any response to War's observation. War continued to move forward, somewhat impressed with himself after finally putting a pause into Plague's way of thinking, or at least dent the surface of Plague's moral convention. With something tangible in his grasp, War continued,

"So to whom do you owe your allegiance?"

"My love is always for the Creator, and all that proceeds from him. He is why you and I are walking out in the ashes of a once beautiful world, seeking justice for a transgression that has cost millions upon millions…and how many yet is to pay this unspeakable price?"

"Do you really believe I am here because of the Creator?" War asked, as he noticed that Plague began to lift back up onto it's hind legs, walking as a human again,

"Was there something you were hoping to learn from me, m'Lord?" Plague quickly changed the subject, as if to avoid the question; _all too clever, Elemental_.

"Tell me what you know about Samael, and his minions?" War continued.

"Samael was once a revered servant of the Dark One."

"Once?"

"Until the Great Whore found sanctuary there, beside the Dark One…his new _teacher's pet._"

"So you know of the Demoness, Lilith?"

"Only that she was once the mother of humanity, only to be substituted by Eve, whom took her place after the _demoness_ betrayed mankind for her own selfish ambitions, mocking the Creator out of spite."

_So Plague knows of the history behind this affair__…what all has his master taught him?_

"…and you mentioned that Samael was _once_ revered…what has changed?"

"Please do not take this as insult m'Lord, but look around you. _This_ was all orchestrated with care, it was no accident. You know very well that Samael was soon ousted when he rejected the Destroyer. Just how coincidental could that really be?"

"What are you implying, Elemental? Who has told you all of this?"

Plague continued to look forward as silence followed for a moment before Plague turned to face the Horseman, it's organic, armored shell, glinting in the light of the sun,

"Listen closely, m'Lord..," Plagues repulsive voice said calmly, "…once we go down this path, there is no turning back. The others will now know of your presence; once we enter the wormhole, all will know of our trespasses. I can protect you from many, but not all. You, must make this choice, without any interference from me."

War glared at the Placid Elemental as his eyes glistened from under his red hood, while his hair hung freely in the soft breeze.

War knew what Plague intended, and he couldn't reject any of it if he wanted to. Everything that Plague said had some relevance in truth, _but he cannot make any decisions for me…he cannot interfere with my prerogatives._

Jumping quickly into the edge of the canyon, the three could feel the shade from the cliffs above, a stark contrast from the heavy, midday sun. War gently pulled back is hood, feeling the dry breeze past his face while drying his damp hair. Ruin stood idle for a moment, taking advantage of the sudden change while watching War brush his white locks from his face, feeling the breeze cool his skin. It had been so long to feel such a sensation, he almost had forgotten what it was like.

Memories before the fall of the Nephilim have long been spent, a dark passage in their history that none of the four dare to reiterate. It had been too long that War has felt anything, whether it be feeling the soft green grass beneath his feet, the tranquil scent of the ozone after a gentle rain, or a simple kiss on his cheek from a woman, it bears no relevance now.

Elementals are much younger and more naïve than their predecessors, _and yet they are given the gift knowledge, or even wisdom?_

Plague stood ahead of them, waiting patiently as the tendrils from its head moved in fluidity, pacing in the same breeze that War sought tranquility.

War finally glared at Plague, sending a response,

"We move forward…there's no reason to fall back now."

"So this is satisfactory, m'Lord?" Plague asked with assurance.

War could only sigh, trying to stay in focus despite the contentment of the Earth's elements. The demeanor in Plagues' stance was strangely serene, despite it's hideous appearance. He didn't know what Plague was completely capable of, but if this creature can decimate an army with a simple pestilence at will, then who knows what all this Elemental was capable of…_and yet, he finds delight in servitude?_

"For now…until we meet with Vulgrim," War responded, and then Plague bowed his head, understanding all too well what War was insinuating. Yet, despite Vulgrim's scheming, the exiled Demon had connections that only others could envy.

"This way then, Horseman War," Plague responded, walking down a path that ventured deeper into the unknown, dark chasm. The further the three went, the darker it became, parting from the blistering sun, into the cold abyss.

* * *

The Raven sat on the edge of the cliff as it watched from above, the Horseman War and his steed, following the Elemental Plague into the chasm within the canyon. Watching closely with his beady eyes, the black bird shuffled his feathers as the sound of a familiar voice whispered to him…

…_and where does he go?_

"To the outcast, Vulgrim…the creature known as Plague is escorting him there."

_Stay close, my old friend__…see where my pupil goes…_

* * *

_Recently, the Darksiders Wikia has made some of the comic pages available to help orient to what has transpired before the events of the game, so it offered some insight of other characters that I felt was necessary...as always, feedback is welcome._


	7. Chapter 6 Merchant of Souls

**Chapter 6: The Merchant of Souls**

_Know me broken by my master_  
_Teach thee on child of love hereafter_

_Drifting body it's sole desertion  
Flying not yet quite the notion_

_If I would, could you?_

_--Would--_

_--Alice in Chains--_

The veil that shielded the light coming into the chasm was soon pulled back, allowing War to enter with Plague not too far behind. War halted in his tracks as he turns over his shoulder to see Ruin, lingering behind, shaking his head and snorting, knowing that they were going to enter a place that he could not venture.

"I will summon you again, old friend…do not worry," said War, as his loyal steed withered way in a pyre of fire and ash, waiting for the moment that War will call him again.

War's gaze turns to Plague, whom stands to the side, waiting for War to move on as the illuminating eyes, glistening from the mask covering its façade, becomes more prominent in the veil of darkness.

"How well can you see in here?" War asked.

"Very well, m'lord…this façade can see _all," _Plague replied. War frowned, grudgingly knowing that this Elemental was proving to be useful after all.

"Then perhaps you can lead me to the Serpenthole…" War announced.

"…and what do we expect to find when we get there?" Plague politely replied,

"…Vulgrim is the keeper of these paths. We can reach Ulthane much faster than continuing down the path of Velerian. Nothing personal with your navigation skills, Plague…"

"Indeed…" Plague let out a huff, as if he was insulted. War was quick to catch the slight change in Plague's demeanor, watching the Elemental turn around and began to move forward,

"…this way…and be sure to watch your step, m'lord. I do not want to have to explain to my master how the great Horsemen, War, slipped and fell, breaking his head open under my watch," Plague, calmly griped as the movement in the trills flowing from its head, quivered in annoyance.

War followed, somewhat laughing to himself, convinced for sure that this Elemental was not a mindless buffoon after all, blindly following some aristocrat for the "Creator's" sake. _I may find this__ creature to be amusing yet._

Picking up the pace further down the chasm, Plague moved with fluidity as it found a overhang to hop up on, waiting for War to catch up. War slowed his tracks, his footsteps that carried him in his massive _Abyssmal Armor_, looked up to Plague, wondering what the delay was.

"Is there an issue with this place that I should know about?" War asked as he sighed.

Plague hesitated at first, looking down a path where a faint light could be seen from their place,

"No…there is nothing that you need to be concerned about, however…it may be best that I stay behind while you visit the Demon, Vulgrim," Plague answered.

"By what bad blood do you have with Vulgrim?"

"There is no malice of which to speak of when it comes to Vulgrim…however, there are some things that involve my…abilities…that should be left unsaid,"

War raised a brow, as the light in his eyes glistened with interest. This was becoming more fascinating than War could ever fathom, but instead of dwelling on it, he shrugged his shoulders as he looked towards the path,

"Very well…should I…_summon_ you, when we are finished?"

"If you be so kind, m'lord…I would most appreciate it."

_Yea, I bet._

He continued forward, leaving the Elemental behind, somewhat relieved from Plague's doggedness for the time being while venturing deep into the cavern, following the faint light ahead as it's soft afterglow began to illuminate even more, the closer he moved towards it. Hanging above him where trinkets of runes, fluttering in the soft breeze that was apparently coming from Serpenthole nearby.

The dark magic here was tranquil, and yet looming at the same time. War didn't like consorting with Demons, but the events of late have forced him into many a corner that left little other options for anyone's sake. He loathed it so much, he began to hate what he had become, to be nothing more than a bastard child, left to wander alone as the chance of clearing his name was pulled out from under him. _And now, not even Death will seek for me_, and it made his outlook on everything, cynical.

Walking into the iridescent cavern where the Serpenthole vortex stood idle, War pulled away from his thoughts for the moment to hear the soft bristling, swaying the trinkets hung from the ceiling, as the air in the vicinity changed. Vulgrim has been waiting for him, as usual.

The formation of the merchant Demon, took shape, as the creature Vulgrim, clasped his thorny hands together, greeting the Horseman War with his toothy, condescending grin,

"_Ahhhh_, my most, _favorite_ Horseman…" said Vugrim with glee.

The long, slender frame that made up the creature Vulgrim was quite a contrast to many other Demons. Clothed in a long tunic while potions, trinkets and other wares hung from his harness and belt, it was apparent that Vulgrim valued knowledge over the sword, and his obsession for collecting antiquities and oddities, perhaps made him even more eccentric.

His head hung two massive horns that was scaling from centuries, upon centuries of wear, along with the rest of his aging body. Yet, the most striking characteristic abut this Demon was his severed nubbins that were once majestic wings. War never knew the details concerning Vulgrim's falling out with the Destroyer, but he knew it wasn't without a price. This left to wonder, what was Vulgrim's ulterior motive to leave such a respectable standing, to then find refuge in the Serpentholes. _He knows something…he always knows something._

Nevertheless, War proceeded to entertain Vulgrim's company, while keeping his thoughts to himself, not giving Vulgrim the benefit of meddling in his head,

"I seek to enter the Serpenthole, merchant," War responded.

Vuglrim seemed for the most part delighted to be in the company of the Horseman again, knowing that War has made his efforts rather profitable from past transactions, while at the same time, just as eager to keep his grubby hands to himself while the scent of War's sheer power, became almost stimulating to him.

"_"Ahhhh_, I must admit…you certainly do get right to business…as usual. I've always liked that about you…_So_, where would the great, Horseman, _War_, like to venture off this time?" Vulgrim replied, clutching a rune that hung from his neck on a leather cord.

"To the Forge…"

"To Ulthane? My, _my,_ why would my _dear_ War go to such a, dangerous place? Surely, my most, _resourceful_ client would reconsider another path, _hmmmm?"_

"I mean it, Demon…and no tricks."

"_Ah_, you cut me to the quick, Horseman…and not even with your…lovely sword, Chaoseater," Vuglrim connived, glaring at Chaoseater, the emblem of everything it stood for, as raw energy hovered around it like a fume. Vulgrim was one of it's most envied admirers, knowing the potential it could have if wielded properly.

War raised a brow, knowing that Vulgrim was only being cautious as usual, not wanting to part with one of his bigger clients, while at the same time, knowing the greater scheme of things all too well, which is what War had to be careful to remember, when associating with the likes of Vulgrim,

"You will open the Serpenthole, and I will pass…and if it would make you feel better, I will make it worth your while…" War sneered sincerely.

Vulgrim's eyes lit up, feeling the words stir in his soul as the lust for knowledge teetered in his brain, luring him into the idea. It was then, that Vugrim's façade shifted, dropping from a perky grin to a pale, frown, as his scowl, drooped over his glowing, lurking eyes…

Vugrim sniffed the air, sensing the breeze brush in between the two as a familiar scent filled his nostrils with a clammy delicacy. His eyes suddenly shifted while he moved back from War, putting a barrier between the two that seemed almost as a precaution.

War could feel the sudden change in Vulgrim's demeanor as the Demon cupped his bony, clawed hand to his mouth, inhaling the odor he was able to collect from the air that moved in.

"_Soooo_…you're not alone this time…" Vulgrim moans as War's brow dropped over his glistening eyes that pulsed from under the hood of his garb,

"This is true…and my _company_ will follow me in."

Vulgrim began to laugh, clutching his shallow gut as a choking cough followed from the banter,

_"Ahhhh_, and I have long feared that you would be _so_ _bland_…but you have yet to cease to surprise me," Vulgrim chuckled, "…and now, you find another alliance? I cannot help but to be jealous…"

"Of what?"

Vulgrim's eye's sunk further under his scowl as he glares at War,

"You, don't even have the slightest inclination of power that lies in the façade of Plague?…by what great talent that would give the Elemental such a reign over the Earth if it was to ever choose to do so…and yet, such an enchantment is locked away from our eyes?"

"…and probably for the better…to keep the likes of your _meddling_ hands off of it." War sneered, knowing all to well what Vulgrim desired the most. Anything and everything was for sale, and perhaps Plague understood the corrupt monstrosities that have since wandered the Earth as of recent, and has chosen to simply not to give temptation a chance by not associating with it otherwise.

Apparently Vulgrim understood the tone in War's statement, wondering what all does this Nephilim really know, about the Elementals that now wander without direction, and yet, the Elemental has leant the talents of the Earth's most potent pathogens to aid the Horseman War. _How ironic. _

"Tell me Horseman…what do you know of the Elementals, especially since you are in company of one of the most powerful…" Vulgrim began to chat, _casually_.

"By what is it that you insinuate, Demon? I'm not in the mood for your riddles…" War griped, knowing that Vulgrim never chatted for the sake of chatting without some other subliminal purpose in his grand scheme.

"Oh my, _my_…where should I _begin?" _Vulgrim chuckled while clasping his chin with his bony hand,

"_Fine…" _War grumbled as he pulls out a bottle from his sack of wares, and extends it out for Vulgrim to take. Vulgrim's eyes widen in interest as he gently takes the bottle of souls from War's possession. Opening it to inhale the scent of the contents inside, Vulgrim let's out a sigh of tranquility, feeling the aroma quench his thirst, and then puts the lid back on and places the bottle in his merchant sack,

"_Ahhhh_, you certainly know where to find the _best…" _Vulgrim gloated as War started to get impatient,

"…now tell me, Demon…what part do the Elementals play in all of this?"

Vulgrim sat silent for a moment as the glow in his eyes sat shallow over his brow, and then he began to speak in a demeanor of that of a prophet,

"The Elementals have long desired to inherit the Earth, but after the events that followed the…_Apocalypse_, the Elementals no longer have sole dominion over the provinces here…"

"I'm willing to bet that they were not too happy about the changing of hands…"

"Some were _very _disappointed, yes, while others found it to be an opportunity…"

"An opportunity for what?"

"Some have been collaborating with Samael."

"What?"

"There are a few that have made…alliances with the Demon horde that make up the remnants of Samael's army."

"So, there are some Demon's left that still keep allegiance with Samael…"

"Yes…but not enough to counter the Great Lord, Mephistopheles…"

"Who is Mephistopheles?"

"He is the first offspring of the Great Deceiver himself. No one has ever seen him, but many have said that he is everywhere, and that he knows all. They say his limbs have spread all over the Earth, watching and waiting, raping to birth his minions in multitudes at a time…"

"How can this be possible, the Charred Council would never have allowed this…"

"…but the Charred Council no longer have dominion here…and the Elementals know this, they have always known the Master Demon was waiting for the perfect time to take his place in the throne room of Hell."

The pieces of the puzzle was becoming more apparent as War dug through the memories in his head, of everything that Azrael had told him, of what Samael told him,

"I wasn't the only pawn in this _affair_…the Destroyer was also just a pawn…to imprison Samael long enough for the Lord to build his province in Hell…"

"Indeed Horseman…but my question to you now, Horseman…by what manner that the Elemental of the _pestilence_ has found favor to serve _you?"_

War peered at the Demon with suspicion, knowing that he must pick his words carefully, while still holding to his side of the bargain,

"Plague claims that his, _master,_ has ordered him to protect me until my day of judgment before the Council…"

Vulgrim's glowing eye's widened, as if a great epiphany awakened in him, filling the empty spaces that have been void for so long. War have long figured that any exchange of information may come to bite him in the long run, but for the time being, such exchanges were a necessary evil to accomplish a greater purpose.

Vulgrim bowed his head in compliance as he floated away from the entrance to the Serpenthole, extending his hand to enter,

"Your valor will serve you well Horseman," cheered Vulgrim as he looked up past the Horseman, to see what he saw as a _beautiful sight_, "…_my_ Plague…it is always such a pleasure in my soul, to see you, _again."_

War turned around to see Plague standing in a statuesque manner, not swaying at the least while his expression was mute and unveiling. War let out a sigh as he turned his glare back to Vulgrim,

"…we will meet again, merchant."

"…and I look forward to our…talks, my dear Horseman. In the meantime, may this, _exquisite_ creature keep my most valued client out of harms way…" said Vulgrim as he clasped his clawed hands while turning his gaze back over to Plague, whom for the most part, didn't find any interest in Vulgrim's business.

The Serpenthole suddenly opened as the breeze pulsed into the vicinity, brushing between the three as War turned over his shoulder,

"Come Plague…we must not waste anymore time…and then perhaps you may prove to me your value."

Plague let out a sigh as he began to move towards the light illuminating from the Serpenthole, feeling the wind brushing along it's porous body as the tendrils from it's head moved in waves against the wind.

War watched as the Elemental moved into the Serpenthole, and began to follow him in, until a conniving voice could be heard from behind him,

"…and Plague will, War...to prove its value…and _you_ won't, _even,_ see it coming, untill it's too late," Vulgrim snickered, as War stopped in his tracks to glare at the Demon, but then turned back around and entered into the vortex that pulled him into the unknown.


	8. Chapter 7 Affliction and Suffering

_Greetings, I am back to continue this series. I__f you're new to my story, please feel free to leave feedback at your convenience...any suggestions or opinions would be of assistance in guiding me to be a better writer. So, without further adieu, I present chapter 7._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Affliction and Suffering**

"_Come out, come out, wherever you are, Nephilim_…I can still _smell you_…" a growling, bellowing voice could be heard echoing in the chasm.

A relatively, large figure moved through the corridors of an immense fortress, meandering the stone pillars as the sound of his massive, spiked flail being drug along the ground was grinding against the limestone. The Elemental, only known as _Pandemonium,_ peered around the pillars in search for the Horsewoman, Fury, keeping her trapped within his dominion by blocking her in the old, long abandoned fortress.

Using his nostrils to hunt the Horsewoman down, he scanned the vacinity with his crimson eyes, keeping his peripheral vision on alert as he moved subtly with his shotgun, _Suffering,_ in one hand, dragging his flail, _Affliction_, with the other.

He stood nearly seven feet tall with steel armor hung over his massive body and a helmet that resembled the skull of a lion with goat horns, curled around his head. His visible, solid biceps was littered with black warpaint while his forearms branded iron gauntlets. Though his was origins were human, his stout size was almost equal to that of a male Nephilim. His attributes alone gave him the proficiency needed to wield such a menacing instrument such as Affliction.

Sitting impatiently between a boulder and the edge of a jagged cliff, finding cover in the darkness, Fury waited for Pandemonium to pass before she would unleash her counter-attack, hoping to finally get passed the damning Elemental. She hid quietly in the shadow as she watched Pandemonium glance by, carefully calculating a successful offensive.

As he moved by, filling his nostrils with a faint breeze that brushed under his nose, Fury moved slowly from her spot, freeing her whip from it's coils to prepare for an assault. Moving quickly and quietly, she darted from behind, unleashing her charged whip, illuminating a magenta light as it flung towards Pandemonium's direction. With a quick twist of his hip, he quickly turned around, moving to the side while pulling back the long chain, taking the flail with it. He avoided Fury's whip just enough to catch it in between the brace of his armored forearm and chain, grabbing it with his gauntlet as his flail moved with ease in Fury's direction.

The woman leapt and rolled, avoiding the heavy collision from Affliction as it shattered the rock and pillars it came into impact. Fury looked up as she straddled into a widened stance, bracing herself along the floor as the crimson eyes that met hers flashed in a frenzy behind the helmet of Pandemonium.

"There you are…" he gloated, gently flinching his massive wrist to bring Affliction tumbling back to him.

"You have no idea what you are dealing with Elemental! Release me or you will feel the wrath of the Horsemen…" Fury warned, knowing if the others heard of her plight, they wouldn't cease to tear this pompous Elemental to shreds.

Slowly pulling Affliction back, the heavy Elemental let out a low chuckle that could be heard coming from deep within his core.

"Your persistence amuses me," he wallowed, knowing that she was only buying time, but then again, so was he, "…but what makes you think I should ever let you go? Ever since the bastards of Hell lost grip of their own province, any stronghold that we had in this world is now taken from us. Don't think for a second that I'm going to lose my rightful share, Nephilim."

As Pandemonium snarled, he suddenly thrusts the flail towards her position. Fury barely managed to dodge Affliction before it came crashing into the rock wall. Rubble is strewn across the vicinity as a rocks scatter, impaling the monuments nearby, chipping away the once perfectly contour sculpture so delicately detailed. Fury could feel the debris glance her pale flesh, feeling the abrasion sting as the air brushed along her exposed legs. Her armor was nothing in comparison to War's or Strife's, while Death was in no need of such armaments.

Cringing from the debris that rained on her body, Fury pulled herself up as she noticed that Pandemonium still had a hold of her whip, clutched into his hand while the chain to Affliction was wrapped around his other arm. Along the side of his leg was a long holster that carried his firearm, Suffering. Throwing her whip to the side, he snickered as the air around them began to chill. It was then Fury could feel it, the influence of panic as the Elemental fed on the slightest hint of fear. Fury knew that he was fishing for an emotional response, trying to get a rise out of her. For the past two hours he hunted, toyed, prodded the Nephilim, hoping to find the slightest inclination of fear.

"There it is…" he mumbled as Fury eye's glistened under his shadow, swarming the facility with his telekinesis, finally pushing her into a corner "…there's what I have been searching for."

"Get back Elemental, or I will scratch those eyes out from your head!"

_"Hehe_, do it Nephilim…and then your anger will feed me!"

Suddenly, a commotion could be heard as the sounds of gunfire could be found, ringing into the vicinity. A breeze grazed Pandemonium as his hand twitched from a bullet that impaled his hand.

A pain shot up his arm, causing him to loosen his grip on the chain, losing control of the massive flail as the powerless Affliction dropped lifelessly into the ground. Pandemonium grunted from the pain as his eyes quickly turned behind him to find the Horsemen Strife branding his pistols, Mercy and Redemption, with the smoke still seeping from the muzzles.

"I only give one chance for _Mercy_, Elemental…release her now, or you will pay for your transgression!"

The massive Elemental grimaced for a moment as he turned around, clutching his bleeding hand, tightening his fist to stop the bleeding. His poise was still the same as he looked down at the Horseman,

"On the contrary Horseman, this is your last chance to salvage yourselves."

"…to whom?"

"Do you really believe that the Charred Council will stop at War? Do you really know what the Council has in store for _all_ of you?"

As the Elemental's gaze pierced into Strife, Fury took the opportunity to move out from entrapment as she quickly bolted out from the corner Pandemonium had her trapped in. From his peripheral vision, he saw her darting away as he let out a growl, suddenly reaching over and grabbing her by her hair, yanking her back to his armored torso. Strife quickly slid to the side to take a shot, but the Elemental quickly wrapped his massive arm around her neck, holding her close to him. Watching Strife carefully as he used her for a meat shield, Fury struggled to breath under the Elemental's solid grip.

With his red eye's burning, Pandemonium fixated his gaze on Strife, keeping all armaments forward, not giving Strife any opening for him to take a shot, or at least not without either hitting his armor or Fury. Pandemonium let out a low chuckle while feeling Fury grunting and struggling under the pressure of his massive arm,

"Keep fighting against it _my dear_…your time on Earth is done, and a new army awaits to replace you."

"The Horsemen of the Apocalypse can never be bested…nor will there be ever a force such as us that can be replaced…" Strife sneered as he suddenly took both pistols before turning his body to fire at a pillar standing next to Pandemonium.

As Strife unloaded two clips of bullets into the pillar, the stone fragments rained on Pandemonium. The pillar started to crack and chunks of slab began break off and fall. Looking up to see what Strife unleashed, Pandemonium attempted to move from the falling debris, but loses his grip on Fury as she wiggled her way out from underneath his arm, clawing at him until he had little choice but to let her go.

Dodging the large slabs falling from the pillar, Pandemonium leapt to the wayside while Fury dodged the other direction, managing to join up with Strife as he slapped in another clip into Mercy and Redemption. Scrounging the ground, Fury managed to find her whip that Pandemonium dropped along the way. She leaned over to grab it and yanked it back with a flinch of her wrist, causing the electrodes to come to life as the long strap sounded to a snap. She turned her gaze to the fallen Pandemonium as her bright eyes burned in rage at the massive Elemental, attempting to get back up.

Pandemonium looked up to spit up blood from the impact of crashing to the ground. Growling as he glared at the two Nephilim, preparing to finish him off, Pandemonium let out a low chuckle as he sneered,

"Do you really think you have gotten the best of me, Nephilim dogs?"

Branding her whip in a tight grip, Fury began to move forward,

"You dare interfere with the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Elemental _pig_…and for your transgression, you will suffer, slowly…" she sneered as she raised her hand, readying her weapon.

"You may have dominion under the Council…but here on Earth, the Elementals _will_ prevail…and then we'll see who will squeal…" Pandemonium growled as he moved his arm out from under him, branding his shotgun, Suffering. Strife quickly unloaded Mercy and Redemption towards Pandemonium, but the caliber of Suffering was greater than that of Strife's pistols and both Strife and Fury took refuge behind the rocks as Pandemonium unleashed the buckshot.

Without warning, the wall between them blew open, causing a massive opening as the rock and rubble scattered across the vicinity, causing a massive cloud of dust to impair their view. The thick cloud of debris, mixed with some falling fragments spread through out the vicinity as the sounds of flapping wings could be heard, coming through the great, makeshift hole in the wall,

"Come Horsemen…this way…" the voice could be heard. Strife turned and noticed it was the commander of the Swords of Eden, pressing them to leave, "…we must hurry!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Fury demanded as Strife held her back,

"Please Sister…they are not interested in our capture," Strife said as he peered through the dust cloud, "…but I must confess as to why they are here."

"Nephilim, we must go, now!" the commander pressed again as he came into view with his massive wings pushing the dust away like a leaf blower.

"What of Pandemonium?" Strife demanded.

"Trust me, he is the least of your worries right now," the commander urged as Fury joined with her brother to listen to the Cherub,

"…so what is it that compels you to enter this fray, Birdie?" Fury scoffed.

_"They _are here. The minions of Mephistopheles have found us! I don't know how, but they found us!"

_"Damn_…he's right, we must leave Sister," Strife acknowledged befpre Fury looked at her brother in disdain,

"How can you trust the word of this…feather duster?" Fury mocked.

"…because it was he who lead me to you."

* * *

Between the scents and sounds of the waterfall nearby, mixed with the clapping and thundering sounds of gunfire and ricochet filling the Valley of Forge, several squadrons of Angels flapped along the landscape, taking shots at an old relic, better known to the Heavens as Ulthane.

Scurrying across of what was once an old rose garden, Ulthane leapt over a grounded boulder, pushing over it with his massive weight before whipping around to slam his bulky hammer to the ground, causing the stone, paved floor to tremor. The aftershock shook the grounded Angels, causing them to founder as they fell to the wayside.

Ulthane let out a guttural laugh as the Angels still hovering in the air kept their distance to re-arm their plasma canons.

"Hahaha, is dat all ya have for me, Pigeons?" Ulthane mocked. The Angels that fell from the aftershock, soon got up. It wasn't long before more entered the arena, attempting to take down the massive Old One with numbers, rather than brute force.

"Surrender Black Hammer…to the Charred Council, and they may grant you a lighter sentence for your involvement with the Abaddon and his conspiracy to overthrow the council!"

"So that's what dem _schemers_ are accusing him of…and not one shed of truth will come from any of it!" Ulthane sneered.

"This is your last chance, blacksmith…" the flying Angel warned.

"No, _little flying man_…it's yours. Tell yer masters, tell the Circle of Seraphim, the Council of Cherubs, that we are all pawns...that we're nothing more but chess pieces at their disposal for dere amusement. Even the Dark One and his minions of Hell, know dis."

"Blasphemy! You dare to stand up for the traitor Abaddon, and his accomplice, Azrael?"

"_Bah_…Azrael has more integrity than all da Cherubs put together. He may be an old fool, but a creature of integrity…he's not responsible for da true schemers…he will not hide from Death when his sentence comes."

"Then you, and that bastard Horseman, War, will hang before the legions of Heaven, and your soul will suffer for eternity!"

"Den what's stopin ya from comin over here and taking me, boy?" Ulthane prodded, noticing that the Angels continued to keep a safe distance, "…prove to your leaders dat yer worthy of the _Great Legion."_

Just as Ulthane finished taunting the soldiers, the Angels of the sky began to fire their plasma canons. Ulthane managed to find cover behind a massive boulder nearby, avoiding the plasma blasts that decimated the ground and flowers around him instead.

"_Agh_, you insensitive _blokes! Y_a tearin up my pretty garden…what did the flowers ever do to you?" Ulthane growled, holding off his attack to avoid the plasma blasts, waiting for the opportunity for the soldiers to recharge. Shortly after the canons subsided, Ulthane came out from his refuge as the infantry took center stage, wielding their plasma swords against the massive Old One. Despite being three times dismally smaller in size, compared to the girth of Ulthane, the Angels resumed their attack. Despite the sharp edges of their plasma swords, Ulthane was able to pick them off with little effort.

"Haha...do ya really tink those glowy _toothpicks_ of yours can get da best of me?" Ulthane mocked. Shortly after his statement, more troops arrived into the vicinity,

"Can you handle all of us at once, arrogant Old One?" the Centurion of the infantry sneered as more troops gathered, encircling Ulthane in all directions, "...how now, blasphemer?"

Before Ulthane could even respond, a loud, echoing neigh is heard in the distance with the sounds of clopping approaching the vacinity.

"Who dares to interfere with the Hellguard?" the Centurion bellowed as the creature in question, approached them. The gallop from the massive steed could be felt with each hoof, hitting the ground, closing in. The Stallion of the Horseman War, pierced into the fabric of arena, making himself known with it's low grunts and menacing eyes.

"It's the treacherous Horseman, War..." a soldier blurted out above the infantry. Both War and Ruin steadied their pace, gazing at the massive army of Angels that encircled his only, other known ally...or at least for the moment.

"Begone Hellguard..." War bellowed while still mounted upon Ruin, looking directly at the Centurion hovering above his army, "...there is no ill will between us! Go back to your commander, Uriel, and tell her of the Charred Council's betrayal...and no blood shall be shed."

"Is that a threat, Nephilim?" the Centurion shouted.

"I speak the truth, and if you find my word is in question, then seek console with your commander, Uriel!"

"It is Uriel that has sent use to seek this, blasphemer...for he too is also responsible for the fall of millions!"

"Then let the Charred Council deal with him. It is not up to the Hellguard to decide his fate, nor the minions of Hell...I would worry more about keeping what is left of your ranks, Centurion. You can't afford to lose any more soldiers."

The Centurion gazed at War with a menacing glare, feeling War's words penetrate him, questioning the ethics of his attack, since it was true that the Hellguard's forces have weakened tremendously as of late.

Before the Centurion could even answer, a sudden tremor, began to rattle the ground underneath them. As the soldiers tried to keep their positions, dark, fibrous vines sprouted from the ground, twisting and turning as their rapidly, growing limbs, meandered around them.

"What despairing menace is this?" one shouted above the noise of the fibrous growth encircling them.

"It's the creature Plague! We cannot possibly defeat such a force," a subordinate of the Centurion cried out, "...I must request that we respectfully retreat, commander."

Feeling the weight of the incidents of late crowding his strategics, the Centurion dove to the ground as his wings flapped a few times, signaling to his men, yelling over the commotion happening around them as the vines continued to surround them, causing widespread panic amongst his legion.

"Gather your weapons and your wits..." he bellowed as he turned his gaze back to the Horseman, "...you have this day, War, but the fight is far from over. I suggest you watch your head...the demons are not the only ones coming to claim it!"

With that said, the Centurion leapt into the air as his massive wings carried him high into the sky above them. The others followed as one by one, the legion retreated, following their commander back from whence they came.

The tension in the vicinity was beginning to subside as the weeds of Plague came to a halt, nesting around the once, beautiful garden, now a decimated mess of cannon fodder. Gathering his massive hammer, Ulthane shook his head, scanning his poor garden, now a heap of foliage of burnt branches and withered flowers.

"_Ack_, those pesky crows...comin and burnin my crop. If only ya came a few minutes earlier, boy..." Ulthane griped. War let out a sigh, wrapping up of what could have been a better day.

"Could you at least _pretend_ to be thankful that I managed to shoo them off, Black Hammer?" War groaned, while dismounting from the saddle, "...or does my company depress you?"

Ulthane started to chuckle, feeling the air take a turn from bitter to jovial the moment opens a glimpse of whom he could reliably call a friend.

_"Hehe_...you know I would never turn away your company, boy," Ulthane cheered, walking up to the Horseman to slap his massive hand over the Horseman's shoulder, causing War to cringe, "...welcome back, my boy! Let us go into my humble abode to drink, recollect, and be merry, whatta ya say?"

"Unfortunately, I am not the only company you may have to entertain..." War grumbled as the presence of the dark, creature, known as Plague, moved out from behind War, making it's presence known before the both of them.

"Well, _well..."_ Ulthane muttered in curiosity, "...I'd never thought to see you this soon, again...Elemental Plague."

War's eyes widened in surprise as Ulthane's gaze turned to Plague. With his usual means of humility, Plague bowed slightly in compliance, returning Ulthane's greeting,

"...and it is always pleasant to see you again, m'lord Ulthane."

* * *

_Ulthane was a rather fun character to write about. I enjoyed his charisma and the fact that the game used him as a catalyst to help bring out, some of War's subtle quirks. Needless to say, you'll be hearing more of Ulthane in later chapters and how he interacts with both War and Ruin, as well as Plague._


	9. Chapter 8 With Camaraderie

**Chapter 7: With Camaraderie**

_"I can help you change, tired moments into pleasure, say the word and we'll be, well upon our way."_

_"Blend and balance, pain and comfort, deep within you, 'til you will not want me any other way."_

_Tool_

* * *

_My lover, why are you so sober? Is the pleasure of my flesh not enough for you?_

If temptation had a form, it was hers. If shrewdness had a scent, she reeked of it. If the Demon Lord Samael had come to any sense after a century of imprisonment, he would know that the fruit of her tree was contradicting and just as deadly as the most potent of poison…but alas, he also knew that if he was to attain his business of vengeance, he had to learn from her.

Although he could smite her in more ways than one, he knew that he couldn't do it without her priceless advice, and he was bound to it, just as Adam before him…but in the grander scheme of things, his union with the Great Whore, the Demoness Lilith, will take him to heights he may never have been able to grasp before. So for now, he will entertain her serene voice, that she whispers into his ear when they meld into one, the same voice that seduced Adam to her coils, and pulled him into The Fall.

_However unlike Adam, I will not make that same mistake twice._

* * *

Samael sat in patience, waiting for the messenger to come, and bring him news of what is transpiring in his new kingdom, the one he inherited when the Destroyer met his fate. Although his inheritance was solely sought from the compliments of the Horseman War, it would be only a matter of time before the Horsemen of The Apocalypse come riding through his door, demanding answers to the brouhaha that was festering in the cracks of the foundations of Hell, gaping wider under the influence of _Mephistopheles_' design, the architect of absolute chaos. He knew when the Destroyer took the reigns, there would be animosity. As predicted, shortly after the Destoyer's defeat, a huge hole of opportunity was left open, and Samael knew that _Mephistopheles_' wasn't ignorant.

The demon, well known in the Dark One's immediate circle, was the mastermind behind much of Hell's blueprint, and Samael knew he didn't have the influence to thwart the Demon Lord's quality. It has been long said that Mephistopheles was Hell, and Hell was Mephistopheles, but the Demons' riddle has eluded many, including the Destroyer, whom also failed to place influence on the Demon Lord.

Yet one thing was for sure, neither Hell, nor Earth, is big enough for all of them, therefore Mephistopheles intends to remedy that very problem, starting with Earth's inhabitants...and one way or another, Samael would be damned if he allowed the Demon Lord to solely benefit from it, just as _he_ did, shortly after the Destroyer's demise..._it's just a question of who will resist him?_

Samael knew that the Elemental's were divided, and therefore were weak. They will not last long against Mephistopheles and his countless legions..._but if the Horsemen ride as one, the enforcers of the law may change the tide_...one could imagine the statistics of success to failure, depending what forces the Demon Lord has to his whim; and they are many.

Sitting in patience on his chair, Samael raised his head to see his messenger fly in through a window above. The massive, hideous bird, with large wings and a bald, scaling head, resembled a buzzard, with a sharp beak and taloned feet, carefully flying to the ground, hopping along as the fowl slowly folded its large wings to the side, tucking them under the breast.

"So...what news from the surface?" Samael cowled, slowly leaning down while his heavy, thorned wings, prostrated up as he shifted his weight, almost kneeling to the floor. The bird slowly tilted its head, glaring at the demon with its beady eyes, while its black pupils, sat encircled by it's golden irises, gazing back at Samael. The bird didn't speak, nor squawk, but it's conduct would shift while it would unfold its wings, and flap them as it bounced between idleness and restlessness.

"...is that so?" Samael would say, acting as if he was listening attentively to the creature. It wasn't long before Samael would erect his massive body, giving a slight grunt as he pondered an array of thoughts that were running through his head.

"So...a few Elementals are aiding Death..._intriguing."_

Without warning, Samael got up from his chair and raised his arm towards the gate entrance into his fortress,

"Go to the Charred Council...there may be something more behind this charade that eludes me, and then bring me the news when the Nephilim confront the Council, and confront them they will...perhaps this can work to our advantage after all."

* * *

All that toiled in Forge's garden, was quiet and serene, while the bellowing voice of the great Black Hammer could he heard, blaring through the flowers and weeds,

"Well _well_…so you come again to _poison_ my pretty rose bushes…_again,"_ Ulthane sneered at the creature standing next to War, the Elemental Plague, "…did ya come back to finish the job by ruinin my tomato crop too?"

"I have no need to destroy your garden, my dear Ulthane…the roses on the other hand, they were twenty years of age…they were done, as the Creator saw fit!" Plague answered in a rather, snippety tone, while still keeping it's demeanor somewhat serene, with it's arms crossed and eyes glowing, the tendrils floating from it's head, shifting.

War could only stand in awe, never knowing that Ulthane had an acquaintance with this Elemental. _How long has he known this thing?_

Ulthane then turned his attention to War, giving him a guttural chuckle as he gloated at the Horseman, who returned to his Forge,

"_Haha_…so you come back, eh? I always knew you had it in ya, boy," Ulthane continued while giving War a condescending smirk, "…so…by what business do have with the creature, Plague?"

War frowned at Ulthane's question as he walked forward to greet the senior Old One,

"I am…in company with this Elemental, until my day in court," War groaned while Ulthane raised his brow, curios as to why War would feel burdened with the likes of Plague, _surely he must appreciate Plagues meekness, in more ways than one...it sure beats that overbearing idiot of a sentinel, The Watcher._

"Ah, well then…you don't know how lucky you are, _boy,"_

"Now your just _mocking me_, aren't you,"

Ulthane started to laugh as he smacked War against the shoulder, nearly knocking him over from Ulthane's enormous size,

"Haha, I always knew you had a sense of humor, somewhere in that cold, shell of a Nephilim…but, in all honesty, I _meant_ what I said. Plague is a rarity in this world, you're lucky to…" Ulthane hesitated as he glanced over at the Elemental, staring at him with its burning, green eyes, as if it was trying to burn a hole in his head, "…to, have such a _noble_ companion…not excluding your steed of course."

"Could he be any less nettlesome?" War growled as Ulthane tilted his head and smiled at the frumpy Horseman,

"_He_ is…well, we'll say noble enough to all the other calamities that now ravage the Earth…but enough talkin," said Ulthane as he peered over the Horseman to gaze at the Elemental, "…if yer not busy, shrivelin my pretty flowers, then by all means come inside, my _dear_ Plague…"

Plague stood for a moment with it's arms still crossed but then decided to oblige the Nephilim's invitation and walks forwards on it's two legs.

"Hehe, perhaps Plague will join us for some grub eh?" Ulthane snorted while Plague folded it's arms again,

"I will be happy to accept your invitation if it does not interfere with my obligations to m'Lord, the Horseman," Plague responded politely, despite it's annoyed demeanor.

"Ah, is that so?" Ulthane scoffed as Plague joined them, "…well then wit that said, I promise I won't harm a hair on dis boy's head, _hehe_," Ulthane chuckled as he wraps his massive hand over War's head, shuffling the white hair, under the dark cowl that sat heavy on War's crown. War, on the other hand, just stood there, tolerating Ulthane's charisma while the massive Old One found delight in War's embarrassment and Plague's annoyance.

"That…would be wise, m'Lord, Ulthane," Plague responded as it lifted it's arm to gesture Ulthane to release the Horseman, and bowed for the Horseman to go before him. War grumbled at Plague's gesture but accepted it anyway to keep the company on endurable terms.

As War and Plague follow Ulthane inside his den, they pass through the rock walls of old, carved in the intricate Celtic knots that wrapped around the cavern ceiling of his entryway, where his Forge ventured deeper into the next chamber of his dwelling.

"Please pardon da mess…I wasn't expectin much, _civil_, company," Ulthane ranted as he rummaged through his pantry, looking for some bread, spices, and olive oil for his company. War looked around at the engravings that embellished the walls of what appears to be his mess hall, with a tapestry hanging from the ceiling, detailing the conflict between Heaven and Hell. Although Ulthane has long been familiar with the dealings between Angels and Demons, War never knew that he also has known the Elementals as well.

Shortly after War pulled out a chair to take a seat, Plague whisked around him, jumping up and over the table effortlessly while softly and gracefully taking a seat on a wooden bar stool nearby. The spores on it's shell can be seen hovering around it's body like an aura, lightly coating the organic armor as if it was a barrier that layered over its skin.

Plague crossed it's legs while still sitting on the stool with its hands gently placed on its knees, as if in a trance, but the eyes glowing from the mask and the tendrils hovering in the air, suggested otherwise.

"_Aha_, I knew I had some left…" Ulthane announced as he pulled out some bread for his guests, along with a pitcher of some fermented wine. He placed the items on the old, oak table, next to War, whom for the most part, was not much in the mood for food or drink, but for the sake of courtesy, he accepted Ulthane's obligations as a host. Pouring the wine in a cup, Ulthane places it before War as War hesitantly picks up the cup and proceeds to drink.

"_Ah_, this should clear your weary head, _hehe_," Ulthane snorted as he filled his gauntlet with wine and chugged it down as if it was water. War watched in disbelief as he gazed at the older Nephilim, clean his cup effortlessly, and then places it back on the table to pour some more.

"Now why would you think that I would need to clear my head?" War asked, puzzled by Ulthane's comment,

"Well, laddy…you got them, horned _bigots_ chasin after ya, not to mention them _pigeons, _huntin for ya, and that doesn't even mention the Elementals that are lurkin in the shadows of the world, waitin to pounce on ya…I hear there's a pretty, golden price for your head."

As War's eyes squint under his heavy cowl, he carefully takes a sip of Ulthane's drink, bringing the bitter taste that comes with fermented grapes and berries. Needless to say, it had been awhile, since he last tasted wine.

"…and the only thing that seems to keep them, _dirt dwellers _from paradin in other people's business, is that creature of the _pestilence_ that likes to toil my garden!"

War knew that Ulthane was making a reference to Plague as the creature folded it's arms across it's armored chest. Plague's expression was for the most part unwavering, but it's demeanor gave a resonance of annoyance. This was a first that War could ever sense anything but serenity from the Elemental; _how or why does __Ulthane have the ability to stir this Elemental, while I'm at a loss as to how to interpret it?_

"…you know very well, _Blacksmith, _that all must come to an end, if another is to begin," Plague patiently reminded Ulthane as he let out a guttural laugh,

"Haha, after all these years, I finally managed to get ya blood boilin…"

"Not even at the slightest, m'lord, Ulthane," Plague was quick to nullify his comment. Noticing that War was still trying to dry his cup, Ulthane reached for the jug again and poured some more in War's cup before War could even protest the gluttony,

"By what reason would these weaker, younger creatures have any chance of an audience before the Charred Council?" War asked, intentionally trying to break Plagues' meekness, while Ulthane responded,

"Are you bloody kiddin me? Anyone can stand to profit...you do realize you've made some pretty powerful enemies for some time now."

"...and therefore what am I to fear the most?" War answered sincerely. Whom did he have to fear? Ever since rumor spread of the Destroyer's fall under the Armageddon Blade by his hand, the minions of Hell, the elites of Heaven, and the scrappers of humanity, do not take War's presence lightly.

For so long, War knew that he was feared and hated. It was nothing new to him, so he accepted his lot in life, without second guessing, without complaint, and placed duty before himself without question. Unfortunately, it was this same honor and loyalty to duty, that lead him to be a scapegoat, labeling him a criminal for an offense he didn't commit. The question that he had now was who was willing to believe the truth? Do his brothers know the truth, or were they lied to as well? Did any of the Elementals know the truth? _How does Plague know the truth?_

"Hehe, you got a point der, boy..." Ulthane agreed, "...but it is said dat Samael is takin his sweet time, ridin out da events of late, just holdin out for the right time, like a buzzard waitin for somethin' to die."

And it was true. Although Samael had a vile temperament, and a disposition for tolerance, he wasn't a fool either, and his strategic abilities is what has long made him the more dangerous of an adversary. _All Demons are cunning and scheming..._it was just a wake-up call when Angels began to pick up their habits as well, although Uriel, the Hellguards' honorable elite, would have much to say about it.

"That comes as no surprise, Black Hammer..." War reiterated, "...but I have long expected these dark days to follow me, wherever I went. I will meet Samael again before the end of all things...it's just a question of where and when."

"_Aye_...that you may. _But,_ in da meantime, drink up laddy…free yourself from the usual conventions that plague ya..." Ulthane hesitated as he turned his attention to Plague, "...no pun intended..."

"Indeed, m'lord Ulthane," Plague said softly, while lifting a brow and folding it's arms, sitting in tranquility.

"...but most importantly, it'll help ya rest for da night," said Ulthane while War managed to finish his drink.

"I do not need rest, Black Hammer…I've wasted a century, _resting."_

"You may want to heed the advice, m'lord, Horseman," said Plague,

"Yea, yes…listen to ya guardian…" Ulthane reiterated as War started to get annoyed, slamming his cup on the table,

"He is _NOT_ my guardian, I have never needed a guardian, I am War, damnit…since when did I need a damn guardian?"

"Now, _now_…watch yer words…you might hurt Plague's feelins," Ulthane mused while War growled,

"To _hell_ with his feelings…"

War slowly stood up, as he removed his hood, revealing the façade of irritation that was blatantly layered on his pale face. Although the emblem on his forehead glistened brightly, the burning in his face subsided as the influence of the drink rushed into his blood, feeling the slight effects of Ulthane's brew. His tense demeanor started to lax, as he let out a serene sigh, grudgingly taking the advice of the senior Nephilim, while he dislodged the harness that hung over the shoulder on his Abyssmal Armor.

The other two sat in silence, watching War remove the shoulder plate of the armor and carefully setting it next to the edge of the table, freeing War's arms and shoulders from the heavy plates that layered his upper torso. The black under dressing, made of a strong, woven kevlar, clung to his form, bonded to the sweat that clung between his skin and the sturdy fabric.

War, in his physical form, was in essence, the warrior one would expect from a being of such caliber, while Ulthane on the other hand, was just a beast of a man, stout with massive arms and hands, appropriately designed for a skilled blacksmith trade, with ruddy hair, soft eyes, and a protruding jaw. But the main contrast was Ulthane's wit, mingled with a rare wisdom that one one wouldn't expect from the Nephilim, but Plague somehow knew better.

As War rolled his shoulders to release the tension from the events of late, he gently picked up his armor while turning his gaze to Ulthane,

"…thank you, Ulthane, for your hospitality," War mumbled as he turned around and started to walk out of the room to another chamber of Ulthane's living quarters, to find a place to lay for the night. The noise of his heavy feet, carrying his massive armor could be heard down the steps until it slowly dissipated.

Ulthane scratched his head, as he turned his head to Plague, giving the Elemental a curious gaze,

"Well what in bloody hell did ya do to put him in a _pissy_ mood?" Ulthane had to ask.

"The Charred Council has placed a heavy bounty on his head, m'lord Ulthane…how would you feel?" Plague responded, keeping it's demeanor subtle, despite War's frustrations.

"…and then forced to have some Elemental, baby-sit him, _aye_…that is a hard concept to swallow," Ulthane jestered at Plague's expense, "…so wit dat said, ye going to shrivel my poor tomato garden now?"

"I shouldn't remind you that you know me better than that," Plague responded, keeping it' s arms crossed,

"Aye, that you shouldn't," Ulthane commented as he looked over his shoulder, but then turned his gaze back to Plague as he let out a condescending grin, "…so, ya like the laddy then?"

Plague looked up at Ulthane as if he stepped in a boundary that was never meant to even be mentioned, much less crossed,

"Now I will not expect any trouble from you, will I…" Plague reminded him,

"_What_…I was just askin a little question…"

"No, you're trying to patronize me."

Ulthane sighed as he got up from his seat and places the dishes in a galvanized tub,

"…in any case, Plague…if you're master means him well, then dat boy could use all the friends that this world can muster…"

"I know…I fear for them…and for home…" Plague said sadly, lowering it's gaze to the floor as Ulthane noticed the tendrils from it's dark head, lowering down. He could see Plague's compassion getting the best of everything this Elemental had to offer…but it was also this same compassion that Ulthane has learned to respect, more so than any other creature by design to take life. He knew that Plague never found delight in it, only knowing that there was a purpose, and that purpose was to keep a balance, or else all life would suffer the consequences.

So Plague would wander the Earth, alone, taking away crops and livestock, while the Elemental Pandemonium would follow close behind, following Plague's trail like an obsession, and Plague loathed it. All was under Plague's influence, there was no bias. Men, women, children, all were subjected to Plague, as Pandemonium followed, wailing his flail, Affliction, causing misery to those, subjected to the pestilence Plague left behind. Since then, Plague wanders unwelcome in a world Plague intended to protect.

Letting out a sigh, Plague stood down from the stool as it walked towards the den entrance,

"Where you runnin off to now?" Ulthane nagged with his hands placed firmly on his hips,

"Just to breath the cool air…it has been awhile…" Plague responded patiently. Ulthane let out a sigh while Plague continued to exit the room and out into the cool night air that Plague had often found refuge for solitude, finding the time to vent the thoughts that would ironically afflict the Elemental…_is this what you ask of me...to fulfill the law of the creator, or to ensure the justice of the Council, just as the Horsemen do? Or am I just a disposable pawn for their bidding as well? Why do I question them...it's not like me to question you, m'lord!_

Just as Plague knelt down next to the garden spring, Ulthane's voice could be heard coming from his dwelling,

"Yer in no condition to be watching over dem if ya don't get rest,"

"…and to rest I will go…but we must leave here before sunrise, as War requested…there is no doubt Hell's forces will find us here" Plague responded while still looking out to the glowing moon in the night sky.

_"Aye_...that they will. _Well_, whatever ya do, don't sneeze...I'd like to keep my vineyard free from your bugs, if it ind't too much ta ask..."

_"Sigh_...understood m'lord Ulthane."

Ulthane let out a chuckle while scratching his head, finally calling it a night as he threw his dish cloth to the side and took refuge to his quarters. The night fell into a tranquil embrace, with nothing left to disrupt the ambiance that surrounded Forge Valley.

Rummaging through a mixture of emotions; remorse, apathy, jealousy, and yet, serenity, Plague would finally find a place to kneel, sitting upright, looking out over the spring as it brought it's hands to the monstrous façade' that covered it's face, feeling the air brushing through the poreous shell that made up the bionic armor of Plague, removing the mask, slowly.

For now, Plague took the moment for what it was...and for now, it was well.

_Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be.  
Desensitized to everything, what became of subtlety?_

_Tool_


	10. Chapter 9 The Sky Will Fall

**Chapter 9: The Sky Will Fall**

_All our times have come  
Here but now they're gone_

_Seasons don't fear the Reaper  
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain…we can be like they are_

_Don't fear the Reaper._

_-Blue Oyster Cult-_

The horizon was soon to be covered by the heavy, dense clouds, covering the stale Earth from the blistering rays of the sun. If there was anything that was constant in this world now, ironically, it was the weather.

The Horseman, known as Death, stood up from a cliff, looking out towards the troubled sky, feeling the sudden breeze brush past him, picking up speed as the storm clouds were racing to the top of the mount, the one place where the Elemental Tempest was said to be found.

It was rumored that the Elemental Tempest controlled the air masses of the sky, causing the temperature and humidity to change, forming clouds and consequently, low pressure air systems, resulting in storms, hence the name the Elemental has been given. It was also said that Tempest would find serenity with the Elemental Calamity, and the two have since shared a love so deep, it's boundaries exceeded beyond Earth and sea…literally.

Death understood that the Elemental Calamity had a high level of clout amongst the elite Elementals, but his short temper made him, difficult to negotiate with. Therefore, to convince Calamity to reason, one would have to go through Tempest to do it.

Hiking further up the mount, Death swung the scythe into the rock, and swiftly pulled himself up the top plateau, where one of the last remaining, ancient monuments built by men, resides. It was the Great Pyramid of Giza, and apparently, Tempest chose this place for her refuge, but refuge from what, eluded him.

Looking past the shriveled terrain of what was once El Giza of Egypt, but the years of Hell's dominion have left this great landmark for the most part in ruin, buried under the heaps of ashes of a once prosperous civilization. Therefore, Tempest salvaged this small portion of humanity, as a reminder of the many covenants between the Third Kingdom and the Creator. Perhaps she refused to allow them to be forgotten.

With a sudden flash of lightning, cracking the sky with a deafening clamor of thunder followed shortly behind, Death knew that he was getting closer.

"Tempest..." Death called out, into the air masses ahead of him, picking up speed as it swirled around the plateau, "...I come to seek your council...will you converse with me, Elemental of the sky?"

A cool breeze glanced him, brushing his white hair into the air, while his robe flapped, bracing his stance against the strong wind. Death stood erect against the elements, clutching the Harvester that lay serenely in his hand, anticipating the slightest flinch of it's masters' wrist. The two were one, gazing at what one would call a chaotic sky, but the elements that fell into place was orchestrated in perfect form..._only someone of artistic endeavor could wield a force of this complexity._

Suddenly, a faint whisper could be heard_, _brushing in the wind,

"_It was said...that you and I would meet...Horseman of the Apocalypse..."_

Although faint and mellow, Death understood the words in perfect clarity,

"…_it was said you intend to remedy the Horseman War's innocence. So tell me, Reaper of Souls, are you here to severe me, again from this world, or do you seek another?"_

"...This is true, Elemental...but I only ask for your aid, to help me summon a needed witness to go before the Council. I require the testimony of Calamity, but his whereabouts are beyond my reach...will you assist me, Elemental of the sky?"

For a brief moment, the festering wind meandered between the air masses like a snake swimming through the water, but as the temperature began to shift, the wind begins to subside, and the condensation gathered in the clouds surrounding the plateau start to disperse.

In the distance as the clouds spread out, a figure emerges from the denizens of the thinning haze, walking casually through the cool, air that hovered between Death and the Elemental, known as Tempest.

Closing the distance between the two, Death could see Tempest in perfect clarity now. She was slender and tall in figure, while her skin was bronzed from the sun. Her ebony hair was woven neatly into thick dreads, pulled away from her face but hung freely from her crown to her upper back.

Draped in white linen, Tempest was bright in contrast to some other Elementals, giving a slight glow under the faint rays of the sun. Death could sense that she was not troubled with his presence, nor apprehensive, but curious…_perhaps she is more than willing to aid us. _

"I am honored that you would come to me for assistance, Horseman..." her soft voice became more audible as the wind died down, "...I can help you seek that which you request..."

Death's long hair started to lax under the faint wind as he held the Harvester behind him rather than in the front, to signify his passive intentions.

"It was said that you and you alone could reason with Calamity…" Death said calmly.

"…perhaps. As of now, Calamity is aggravated with the legions of Heaven, and is furious with the peons of Hell. He has isolated himself from the rest of us for some time now…myself included."

Closing the gap between the two, Tempests' façade appeared sorrowful, despite the illumination coming from her face. Death could immediately tell that she was being truthful, and that her bond with him was strong.

"I fear for your world, Elemental…as for the fate of what is left of the third kingdom. Despite the powers vested in me, I do not have the means to save you from the next tribulation. Without War, there will be no asylum for any of us from the Demon Lord. If I am to save your people and the other inhabitants of this world, I must bring Calamity's testimony to the Council."

Tempests' eyes widened from the news coming from the enforcer of the law, realizing that his jurisdiction was being held back by the forces established long ago by the Charred Council. Although Death could ignore the call of bringing War to justice, he would put the brotherhood at risk if the Charred Council ever found him to be in derelict of duty, and any attempt on his part to prove War's innocence would then be compromised.

"If what you say is true, and that War wanders alone in this world, how will you then present witness, when all of Heaven and Hell are bent on destroying him? Mephistopheles legions have now surfaced…I have seen it."

"War is not alone, and unprotected…there are other fates that are in play, other than the Hellguard's shortsightedness and Hell's corruption. Take me to Calamity, and I will promise you, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse will serve the law to it's fullest extent, and bring all to whom stand in it's way, to justice."

"Then follow me, Horseman, and I will take you to Calamity…but we must hurry, before word spreads all over the face of the Earth of your intentions."

* * *

"_Do you remember the last time, in the company of someone of great value, you felt a pit in your stomach, so strong, you were compelled to draw closer to it?"_

"_I remember...vaguely, m'lord, but I remember."_

"_How did you cope with it?"_

"_I'm not sure if I ever had a moment to cope, m'lord…"_

"_...then you have been in solitude for too long."_

"_Forgive me, m'lord...I did not realize my absence was of concern..."_

"_No...it is no fault of yours. It is this sensation that infests in you that destiny has chosen you…"_

"…_but how will I know that it is it?"_

"_No one can tell you what it is, but you will know when it finds you…it will drive you to do things that will leap beyond what is logical..."_

"_Will it hurt?"_

"_Yes...but be of good cheer, and do not fear the Reaper….it is he who will now guide you in your faith, now."_

Plague shooed the subtle voices away, peering into the morning haze as the sounds of a horse grunting could be heard in the near distance. Ruin was up and early, shaking his head while clopping along the side of the brook, peering out towards the dense fog that hovered above the water.

Although the early morning sun was still peering low into the horizon, it's illumination still brightened the Forge with it's afterglow, filtered into the foggy haze. Ruin was for the moment tranquil, occasionally snorting as the flames that seared from his nostrils was contained, not bright and wrathful when hostile, but poised and calm. He didn't seem to mind being in the same company as the Elemental, but he didn't go out of his way to make a friendly pass either. Plague could see Ruins eyes scan him over, assessing the Elemental as to how his trust would be willing to tolerate.

Plague didn't take it personally, nor attempt to beguile the steed from the matter, but instead, took a seat on a boulder nearby, knelt down and looking out over the brook, patiently waiting for Ulthane to return from scanning the valley ahead. The last thing they needed was to walk into an ambush, which was rumored that the Incubi was well-known for.

Finding a moment to contemplate, Plague sat in serenity, watching Ruin trying to brush the flies away with his fiery tail, singeing any pesky insect that dared to make refuge on his back. Plague tried to not come off as ogling, but the scene was too humorous to not look. Lifting his front hoof to brush over his massive head, Ruin shook his head again, running his fiery main against the skin, while trying to relieve an itch. Finally, Plague couldn't stand it anymore and just climbed down from the boulder,

"_Sigh_, would you allow me to assist you in relieving your ailment?" Plague asked, still keeping a good distance from Ruin's kicking range. The horse gave a few grunts, shaking his head, but then stood still for a moment, leaning his head down as if he was waiting for something.

"Well then...are you going to play nice or are you going to be ornery?" Plague asked as Ruin just stood idle for the moment, not responding with his usual mannerisms. Still hanging his head low, Plague peered at Ruin with a soft gaze while gradually inching over, carefully taking one stride with precision. One of the thorny hands began to retreat into a soft, pale flesh of what resembled a human appendage, with five, proportioned fingers. Carefully moving towards the intimidating steed, Plague knelt down next to Ruin's head, slowly bringing the exposed human hand to the side of Ruin's shoulder and started to scratch at the matted, short hairs that covered Ruin's body, brushing along the area where his front leg met his torso.

Feeling a sudden sensation of relief from the obnoxious itching, Ruin let out a low, purring moan, lifting his massive head, stretching out from the tossing and turning of trying to relieve the itch himself.

It was a sensation Ruin had nearly forgotten, such as the contact from a human patting his head, or stroking his mane, scratching behind his ears, and rubbing his nose while giving him a carrot or potato to nibble on. For so long, the only thing he cared to remember was spite, a wrath that burned so deep from his most inner being, all that he knew was to hate, after spending so long, chained in the denizens of hell, tortured and mauled for their amusement. It was only when War found him, a horse that was broken and defiled, that Ruin was freed from his captors, watching the Nephilim War, decimate the demons responsible for his distortion. Although Ruin could never return to the full integrity that he was meant to be, War gave him the option of running free, or stay at his side, giving him purpose again, with him as his rider.

But now, an old, long repressed memory was coming to surface after so long of being ritualistically rendered into manifestations so pitiless, it was _deja vu _for the horse. As Plague ceased to scratch his side, Ruin twitched his ears as he let out a playful neigh, wanting to remember what it was like to be stroked on his nuzzle, once again.

Turning his head, he tapped Plague's exposed hand with the side of his nose, trying not to singe it with the low flames burning from his nostrils. Plague couldn't help to be shocked as to how responsive the powerful stallion was, finding solace with something so trivial, but then again, perhaps Plague has forgotten the power of a human touch to a domesticated animal.

Plague hesitated for a moment, pulling the hand away, afraid of the porous shell that could easily infect Ruin if desired to.

"No…you must experience this bond with the Horseman, but before he can do that, he must learn to let go…" Plague expressed as Ruin let out a low grumble, and then started to sulk. Plague could only guess that Ruin long understood that the Horseman was distant from his own essence. Although the bond between the two was fitting, sharing the same compelling malice, their expressions of anything else outside of that malice was strained. Plague couldn't understand as to how any creature could be filled with so much spite, but didn't go out of the way to try to find peace within themselves, either. As Ruin unwound, standing along the brook in serenity, his ears perked up and then lifted his head to see Ulthane coming their direction. Moving along with his Hammer over his shoulder, he finally made his up to the two as he plopped his massive hammer to the ground while rolling his shoulders.

"Well…ya can safely say dat the road's clear…or at least for now," Ulthane began his query, "…but we mustn't wait for too long,"

Plague stood back up to reply,

"I am inclined to agree with you…" Plague said as an abrupt neigh could be heard from behind, "…and I believe Ruin is also in agreement."

"Well, before we leave, it may be best ya relieve yourselves now, cause I don't wanna hear it on da road, every other bloomin ten minutes that ya have to go!"

Plague's glowing eyes gave the Old One a sarcastic glare while Ulthane returned a smirk, as Plague responded,

"I'll be sure to tell that to m'lord to take care of business before departure," Plague sneered. Ulthane couldn't help but to let out a chuckle while clutching his stomach,

"Ha, I knew I could get yer blood boilin…and all dis this time, I thought ya were just as dull as dat boy and his moody horse!"

Ruin gave Ulthane a snort while clomping his front, left hoof.

"_What_…it be true."

"We're not here for your personal amusement, Nephilim."

"Says you…besides, does dat boy know what ya really are?"

"No…and it will stay that way, m'lord Ulthane." Plague answered without sarcasm or rebuke. Plague stood up and started to walk towards the road just outside of the Forge, feeling the brisk breeze, brush along the porous covering that made up Plague's armored shell.

Ulthane got the hint that Plague was ready to leave as Ulthane picked up his Hammer and threw it back over his shoulder,

"So what should we be expecting, now dat you've dragged me into this fray?"

"Dragged? For your information, you are a direct witness to m'lord's innocence, and as long as the rumors continue to spread like wildfire, whether you like it or not, you are just as compromised as the Horseman!"

"_Bah_, nosy Elementals…and how'd you come to know about my involvement?"

Ulthane stopped in his tracks while Ruin also stopped shortly behind him to watch Plague turn around to face them both,

"It doesn't matter, m'lord Ulthane. What does matter is that I make sure I can escort you and the Horseman away from everyone and anyone who may be after your heads…" Plague responded while placing the long, taloned hands on the hips, "...and since you asked so quaintly, the Nymph's informed me while I was breathing in the night air."

"_Ahhhh yes_, so they did…"

Ulthane grinned, rubbing his chin while Plague gave him a scowl as the brow drooped over Plague's soft, glowing eyes,

"_What?" _Ulthane griped, feeling the heavy ogling coming from the Elemental,

"You've been…_conversing_ with Nymphs, haven't you…" Plague growled.

"Conversing? _Pfft, _is dat what we're callin it now, _ha!"_

Plague grumbled and continued forward, putting more distance away from Ulthane as he let out a chortle while bellowing out,

"Ya know, if ya wasn't such a _prude_, ya might enjoy da little things in this measly existence…"

"…it's not measly when it serves a purpose, lord Nephilim…"

"Ya, _ya… _always hidin behind dat mask…ya do know War idn't as dumb as he looks, _eh? _He'll figure it out eventually…"

"Let me worry about that when it comes to light…"

"…and then da hornet's nest will really go into a frenzy…"

"_...and then what hornet's nest would be so calamic, that War would need to quiver in fear?"_

A familiar voice could be heard as Plague, Ruin, and Ulthane turned around, to find War was eavesdropping on their little conversation. Ulthane let out a low chuckle while he lightly taps Plague on the shoulder,

"Hehe...told ya so."

Plague only gave Ulthane a scowl, while War turned his attention to the Elemental. Without hesitation, Plague soon acknowledged the Horseman

"We must move quickly, to avoid any possible Incubi."

"What about the Incubi do you find threatening, Plague?" War asked, wondering why Plague was so troubled with the Demon horde, known all over the Earth as the Incubi.

"It is not the Incubi that _you_ should fear, m'lord...it is the Succubi that should concern you. The Incubi will only alert them in their place...and they will do things far worse to you than the Incubi will."

Without even giving either War or Ulthane a chance to respond, Plague jumped down onto all fours and began to run ahead, putting distance away from the others.

"Up, now ya done it, _laddy!_ Ya put Plague in a _tissy,"_ Ulthane groaned, "...and now my tomato crop will be _damned_ for sure."

War let out a slight grunt as he continued to walk along side Ulthane with Ruin trailing behind them, figuring the Elemental was merely scoping the path before them. It certainly wasn't like Plague to be the least bit, moody, much less in a "tissy." This only jogged War's curiosity even more, but his musing would have to wait, for the wind coming from the north blew past them as whispers could be heard of a great tribulation that is coming to hand. It was just a question what hand will War have by then, when the Dark Lord prevails over the Hellguard and Samael's faithful.

Flying past them, the Raven landed on a tree nearby, glancing at the small group with it's beady eyes, shuffling its feathers while taking a moment to groom itself. Watching from a distance as the group treks further down a dismal path of ruin and decay, the Raven watches solemnly from his perch on the tree...

"They are well, for now...but how will your pupil pass this test, when so much is at odds?"

"_Nothing is for certain quite yet...but do not lose faith, my friend...hope is not completely spent._

_

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_

Well, the action will pick up again here, soon...depending on the action sequences, it may take a little more time to compose in a way that it will flow smoothly, but it is, in the meantime, a work in progress. As always, feedback is welcome.


	11. Chapter 10 The Hounds of Hell

**My apologies for the delay; the holiday threw me off and this site was acting quirky when I was trying to edit... but hopefully it'll be worth the wait. In the meantime, the journey continues.**

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_While War and his camaraderie move on to avoid running into Mephistopheles forces, Death continues his quest to summon witnesses for War's day in court, before the Great Demon Lord takes over the Earth. Time is running short for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, hoping to reunite after the decree of damnation is removed from War by the Charred Council..._

**Chapter 10: The Hounds of Hell**

_Water gray  
Through the windows, up the stairs  
_

_Chilling rain  
Like an ocean everywhere_

_Hope decays  
Generations disappear  
_

_Washed away  
As a nation simply stares_

_The levees are breaking…_

_Little Things Give You Away_

_-Linkin Park-_

_The front page of an old paper read, "Night of Terror Shaped Island," a Galveston Daily News reporter said in the story on Sept. 8, 1900, and that a hurricane could never truly be written. For many, no words could ever be spoken again about the deadly hurricane that reshaped the Gulf Coast forever. (*Michael A. Smith of the Daily News)_

…_but as I recollect, when I was watching from afar, that hot summer on August 29, 2005, off the Louisiana and Mississippi coastline, United States, the same waters, the same winds bludgeon against the North American Gulf coast, again…but this time, the enchanting city of New Orleans, is now washed away by the same intensity that struck Galveston Island, a hundred years earlier. However, my storm, a simple breath of cool air, causing a combination of a tropical wave, an upper-level trough, and the mid-level remnants of Tropical Depression Ten, that turned into the terrible category five Hurricane that fateful Summer, feeding on the warm waters in the Gulf of Mexico, was given a name...and they called her Katrina._

_Like so many others that tore into the North American coast, like Eloise, Andrew, Hugo, Alicia, and Audrey, took a toll on it's inhabitants, as the Elemental, Pandemonium followed them into the mainlands, causing all sorts of havoc, wielding Affliction and Suffering to those whom stood in his path. Then Plague followed, walking through the desolate destruction the storms left behind, finishing the job while humanity was left to pick up the pieces. _

_As cold and decisive as that may seem to be, a balance had to be maintained, as the Creator has set in motion since the beginning of human history. This was our calling, the calling for all Elementals, to maintain the balance, regardless of cost…_

…_how far have we strayed from this task, and now we reap where we have failed. Hell intends to take dominion here, and we're too divided amongst each other to stop it. Despite all these powers at a whim, those same abilities of destruction we posses that have leveled cities, scattered nations, and toppled kingdoms, here we stand, helpless against Mephistopheles and his legions._

_I beseech you…to whom is willing to listen…the Destroyer is not the threat. He never was. He was just a pawn to pave a way for another kind of evil._

…_please…whoever can hear my voice, help us…or the Earth is lost to Hell, forever...and Heaven will never have dominion here ever again. _

_Tempest_

Trekking through a canyon valley that was laid in waste from a century of the demons rampage, devouring everything in their path, demolishing the remnants of an old, empire, the last evidence of its mass dominion, is faded.

All that is left of Rome now, is a precipice that has literally, split the historical city into two, with one half sitting on a heap of ash and decay, while the other sat on the edge of a raging ocean, angry and livid. The Elementals of the seas have gnashed their teeth onto the inhabitants on land, watching and waiting for their chance to strike at Hell's minions.

Tempest walks along the seawall with the Horseman Death, perched on his trotting steed. Although it's body was pale and insipid, the frame was just as lithe as any strong horse would be, however, the animal was anything but radiant, and it looked dry and lifeless, against the overcast sky.

Picking up the hooves in a steady pace, Death peered out through his familiar facade, the face of the Reaper. Feeling the cold breeze pass by him, a cold chill brushes along the cliff while Tempest brushed off the cool air, knowing full well that the ocean was giving her the cold shoulder.

"Lir, the Elemental of the ocean, is not happy that I have given you refuge here," Tempest began, "...he believes that you cannot salvage this world from destruction."

Tempest looks out towards the ocean, watching the waves brush against the rocky shore while her gown flaps in the gentle breeze.

"...and with that, he is correct. I alone cannot bring this world back from Hell's ascendance," Death responded, sympathetically. Tempest nodded gently while her eyes were fixed on the waves coming and going along the shore front, serenely responding to the Horseman,

"...however, he does not blame War for the events that have transpired here either," Tempest continued. Death's eyes widened as the light that illuminated them glittered in awe, surprised that the Elemental has no ill will with War, concerning the events of late.

"...and how does he come to that conclusion, despite the insistent rumors and lies?" Death calmly asked.

"If he trusts anyone, he trusts me...and I trust Calamity as a witness to the testimony you seek."

"...and yet he disapproves of my presence here..."

"He is bitter and pessimistic, but contrary to belief, he prefers to be passive and is not an instigator. I am usually the one who instigates, using his waters to feed the skies," Tempest answered in a matter-of-fact way, leaving nothing to condescend, "...to be blunt, I am the stubborn one...even though the men who ride the seas, sing songs that say otherwise."

Death let out what one could call a sigh, and yet, his breath was not one of exasperation, just a release to make room for a long, past sensation...the _deja vu_ that comes with centuries upon centuries of so many memories. It was a welcomed thought that Death could feel it again, remembering his own experiences before the fall of the Nephilim, before he became the last remnant of his kingdom. What he thought was long forgotten, associating with these Elemental's aided the resurrection of his past, before he became a Horseman. It didn't matter if those memories made him sad or happy, it was just a relief that he could feel at all, despite how the time has made him unbreakable and indifferent. He could find solace in that.

Coming to what was left of an old monument, gnawed down into a stump of a column, Tempest finds a seat on the fallen column that was lying on a heap of dust. There was no grass or vegetation to be seen, just the lifeless, thorny limbs of dead trees, while the black birds picked off from the dead, scattered all over the city that was once Rome. Old monuments, statues of pagan gods were either in pieces or left without a limb or two, or a head missing, gnawed off by the feral beasts that roam during the night, while automobiles sat idle in waste, rusting away.

As Death found a place to stop where Tempest found rest, the air around them started to warm up again as the tide began to change, lessening the intensity of the waves, crashing along the shore. Tempest could tell that Lir was becoming more tolerant with her recent decision, but that didn't mean he approved.

"If Calamity is near, he would either be here, or near Mount Fuji," Tempest announced.

"By what reason would he seek refuge here?"

"He has a memory in this place, from sometime in the seventeenth century when he shook the foundations after the Elemental Pele, the "firewoman," let the volcano, Mount Etna, come loose. He feels a great shame here..."

"...and what shame would that be?"

"When he finally revealed to Pele that he could not love her, despite his sincerest efforts..."

"...and that he fell in love with you, instead?"

"Yes...he comes here every ten years, to offer his apologies when Mount Etna is most active."

"Has she ever forgiven him?"

"That I do not know. It is a boundary that I have chosen not to interfere, out of respect for Pele. I do know that she continues to run the course that was set in place since the beginning of time...she has not strayed from her post, but is resentful in doing so."

The words that flowed from Tempest was a like a puzzle slowly, but surely coming to picture. The Elementals were, for the most part, still "irrevocably human," and irreverently retained those very, tempting emotions that can make them dangerously unpredictable. It comes to no surprise that they would run ragged without their _chamberlain_ to keep them in check, to make sure everything was in place. Only a few had the discipline to stay the course, and consequently, set an example for others to follow, while some chose to be defiant for their selfish ambitions, whatever they may be.

"Will the others be just as inclined to listen to you?" Death asked,

"Some, but not all...Calamity carries the most influence between the two of us..."

"Then it may serve you well to gather as many faithful as you can, and prepare for the coming of the Demon Lord..."

"Surely you must know that we cannot defeat the Demon Lord with only a third of the Elementals at our whim..."

"I do not intend for you to defeat the Demon Lord...but perhaps you can by me some more time, enough to gather the forces needed..."

"...and what forces, may I ask, that you have planned to stop Mephistopheles?"

"That will depend how many strong witnesses I can summon before the Charred Council..."

* * *

Pacing between strides against the cool breeze, the white horse, known as Conquest, and his rider, Strife, brushed along the thicket, running down a faint trail that snaked through a dense forest as the noises of huffing and snorting could be heard, following closely behind them.

Ever since Strife managed to salvage his fellow Horsewoman, Fury, they have been on the run from a pack of beasts, long called Hellhounds. They were the Dark Lords' dogs of war, whom are generally set loose to proceed a more grander army, to weaken the inhabitants of the world with the gnashing of their teeth. They wander without sleep, chasing down anything in their path until their pray tires and weakens. Strife knew he couldn't outrun them for long, _but lead them just far enough out into the open. _

Coming closer to the edge of the forest, Conquest leaps out from the thicket and out into a field, where the Swords of Eden were waiting for him. Pacing carefully to avoid springing the trap too early, Conquest lengthens his stride, as the Hellhounds grunt and snarl close behind the white horse and his rider,

Running out into the open, Strife is met with Fury and her gray steed, similar in color to that of a stormy sky, whom she calls Desolate. Shifting his pace, Desolate trots lightly to stay in rhythm with Conquest, and then quickly flanks from the side, awaiting the monstrous dogs to emerge from the thicket.

Suddenly, the beasts barged out from the wooded area, snarling and barking. The creatures resembled stout, demon-like bulldogs with medium snouts and canines the size of tusks, running on all fours while the thick hairs on their backs, stood upright. Their eye's bled red, glistening brightly, keeping their view focused on the white horse, not paying the slightest attention to Fury flanking them on the left, while the Commander and his platoon of Cherubs waited for them on the right.

"Now, my brothers…show these creatures of the _damned_ what Hell _truly_ is," the Commander bellowed out. The Cherubs flapped their mighty white wings, picking up speed as they drew their spears and hurled them towards the pack of dogs, consequently impaling at least three of them, out of the ten that were following them.

Barking out a agonizing yelp from the spears that pierced their sides, the other seven growled in anger. The dogs focus was no longer on Strife, but the Angels behind them, branding their spears, shields, and swords.

"Commander, their coming our way," one of his men bellowed out as the dogs changed their course and charged towards them, instead.

"Hold your ground…do not break off."

The Commander moved into the front position, landing on the grassy field as he knelt down and folded his massive wings behind his back, slowly looking up, peering at his adversary from a distance while they closed in.

"…that's it…just a little closer," he mumbled while peering at the charging beasts, running towards him with their teeth bared and their claws erect.

Keeping their focus on the grounded Commander, the dogs ran without taking another glance from the onslaught that was following behind them. Within a few seconds, the sounds of hooves hitting the ground was becoming more audible, as Conquest and Desolate galloped to the side of the pack. With Mercy ready in hand, Strife fired several shots, impaling one dog in the rump and leg, causing him to founder under his massive weight. Fury pulled out her whip as Desolate moved in closer behind the lagging hound, closing in just enough for her to lasso the creature by the back leg, pulling it out from under him.

As five of what was left of the seven Hellhounds marched forward, the Commander pulled the sword from his sheath, gripping the handle in his right hand while the sword glistened from the faint light coming from the hazy sky. He slowly stands back up, clenching a dagger in the other hand, carefully waiting as he keeps a count of steps between strides, watching the Hellhounds move closer and closer.

Just as the dog was close enough for the Cherub to hear it snarl, showing its' tusk like teeth, the Commander leaped into the air, making way for the charging beast, while in an aerial somersault, swung his dagger into the shoulder of the creature, piercing it, and clinging to the blade while the beast continued to run, growling in annoyance. Using his massive wings to add wind resistance to the running Hellhound, the creature had little choice but to slow down, as the rest of the pack consequently slowed down as well, giving the other Angels enough time to spread out and attack from the air, while the two Horsemen continued to flank from behind.

The Hellhound shook his massive head, trying to throw off the Cherub clung to his back, but the Commander hung on while readying his blade and thrusts it into the beasts' neck, causing it to squirm in agony, falling forwards. Leaping off the whimpering beast while pulling his blade out of the maimed beast, the Commander propelled himself forward, meeting another dog with his sword, jamming it into it's open, toothy mouth, causing the dog to gag as the Commander jerked it right out. The blood rushed from the incision as the crimson crush overflowed it's mouth and into it's throat, causing the creature to choke while obstructing the needed air for it's massive lungs. Panicking, the beast was thrashing out of desperation while the Commander leaped away and just left the damned dog to choke on it's own blood.

In the near distance, Strife reloaded his duel firearms while Fury continued to keep a lasso on one of the beasts' leg, pulling it out from under him every time he tried to get up, before one of the Cherubs of the Swords of Eden came to finish the job with his blade. Within not even the slightest moment of a second, the last remaining of the Hellhounds leaped towards Conquest and his rider. The sudden evasive was a just split of a second too long before Strife could feel the power and charge of the damned hound, ramming into Conquest, thrusting the horse to the side, causing Strife to fall from the saddle. The white horse managed to stabilize after the sudden impact, but his only means of defense was his massive hooves against the Hellhounds enormous teeth and razor claws. Conquest gave the beast a sharp kick to the side, sending it back, but it only grazed the resilient beast, making it even more irate than it was before.

Strife leapt to his feet, pulling the hood from his head as his eyes peered from the encased mask that sheltered his face from contact. Gripping both pistols in his hands, that all familiar clenching that would unleash a heavy blow to his adversaries, he dashes to the aid of his steed, falling short of the Hellhound's gnashing. Conquest wailed in a concoction of retribution and agony, while trying to strike the monster with his hard, lightning fast, feathery hooves, striking the creature with some sustaining blows, but the persistent animal managed to get under the horse, and ram the steed onto his side. Neighing in desperation as the white horse hit the ground, the dog leapt towards the fallen steed while a bullet zipped into the fray, and the Hellhound slumped into the horse, lying lifeless on the ground, bleeding profusely from the eyes and nose.

Strife limped towards the two, the barrel of Mercy still seething with smoke while Fury trotted on Desolate to aid the fallen, great white horse. Conquest twitched his ears to the familiar sound of his rider approaching, trying to lift his aching body, but the weight of the wounds was just too burdensome.

The Swords of Eden also made their approach, watching the dismal situation, knowing without the steed, the Horseman would not be as affective against the massive armies of the Great Demon Lord. Strife pushed the cursed animal off of his companion, noticing some lesions around his colossal hind legs.

Conquest was the largest and most majestic of the steeds, only slightly more in size next to Ruin, the horse of the rider, War. The enormous hooves of Conquest could shatter the ground, his charge was swift, commanding, and overwhelming, but only with his rider, the horse was quite a force to be reckoned with. It pained Strife to see his steed in agony, failing his close companion for not keeping in the saddle. Kneeling down over the horse, he removed his green cloak and proceeded to tear it. Peeling a piece off, he wrapped it into a tight, makeshift bandage, and started to wrap it around the largest of the lesions on Conquests' leg.

Fury dismounted from Desolate, standing in awe, watching anxiously while Desolate turned and nuzzled his head with hers, breathing serenely while she patted his braided mane with one hand, and stroking his nose with the other. She watched her fellow horseman, gently rub Conquests' neck, keeping him calm and tranquil, hoping to avoid bringing any attention to themselves, unless other beasts that roam the land, finding a maimed, vulnerable animal to be a perfect meal.

The Commander made his way to the Horseman and his fallen steed, folding his wings behind his back and placing his sword back into the sheath,

"My sincerest condolences, Horseman, but we cannot stay here…"

"What would you have me do, Cherub?" Strife snapped, with no intention of leaving the side of his steed. Fury chimed in behind her brother,

"He cannot leave his horse, Angel…we are bound to them, like you are bound to your creed…"

The Commander glared at Fury for a moment, but then returned a nod, understanding the situation from a deeper perspective, knowing the creed that the Swords of Eden were bound, was inseparable, even if Azrael was condemned, they were still bound to his service. There was still a part that the Angel of Death had to play, in hopes to stop a tribulation that was in wake, and the chess pieces are already in place.

Looking away for a moment into a dark horizon that was on the move, a storm possibly, or another sign of the Dark Lord's coming, the Commander gazed in thought, running through his head. As his gaze returned to the white horse, the commander moved towards them as he pulled the sword from his sheath, while Fury watched the Cherub in panic as she was soon to act, but before she could move any further, the other Cherubs, leaped into her place, holding her back.

"_STRIFE…" _Fury tried to yell, but her words were choked by the other Cherubs while Strife was quick to turn around, with Mercy in hand. The air in the vicinity took a turn as a flash of lightening struck the ground, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that echoed beyond the valley.

* * *

Feeling the reverb, coming from the lightening in the distance, the Horseman War turned his attention to the left, peering through the haze, while Ruin twitched his ears, letting out an loud grunt. Ulthane stopped in his tracks, turning his gaze to the commotion that caught War's attention.

"_Ack_…that sounded more like an _Angel's Clash_, than just any bolt a lightening ta me…" said Ulthane, keeping his attention to the direction of the flash.

"I'm inclined to agree," War reiterated while keeping his gaze fixated on the horizon ahead, "...we can't ignore it."

"…but would Plague say about ya runnin off…"

"To hell with Plague's constant nagging…if he wants to protect me, then he can tag along and help…otherwise, I'm going to find out what's going on."

War leapt off the road and onto another direction as Ruin shook his head a few times, before trailing off to follow War. Ulthane scratched the back of his head, wondering if he should wait for Plague to return,

"_Aw...ta_ hell wit it…hey, wait up laddy," Ulthane called out before running up to War, "…don't think ya could run off and have your fun wit out me!"

War didn't respond, he just returned a slight smirk to entertain Ulthane's notion of what the two considered amusement, especially if it was at Plague's expense. _Now I'm curious to see how mad the poised Elemental can really get, _War contemplated.

* * *

_Just a note to those who are big fans of the game, the soundtrack is available for purchase at Amazon, but if you would like to listen to the tracks for free, you can access them on youtube for listening. Just Google, or Bing, Darksiders soundtrack and select videos and you can access the tracks for listening._


	12. Chapter 11 Enter Havoc

_With Halloween finally over and battling some obnoxious stomach bug, I finally got this thing fleshed out and edited. As always feedback is welcome._

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**Chapter 11: Enter Havoc**

Lying in the middle of a decaying, grassy plain, feeling the air brush over his comatose body, the great white steed, Conquest, looked up to his rider with his dagger raised against the massive sword of the Cherub Commander. Sparks glistened as the two blades collided, chafing against the grain enough to light up the blades.

The ground around them was scorched from the lightening that stretched from the Heaven and to the ground that encircled them, causing a barrier that separated them from the others whom stood nearby. Fury watched helplessly from the sidelines, trying to shake off the other Cherubs that held her back, but the steel claws that she branded on her fingers caused several gashes to the first who dared to touch her. Desolate stood up to kick his front hooves and then landed on all fours again as a warning to the Cherubs to stay back, snorting loudly while peering with lifeless, black eyes.

The sudden spat sent a shockwave of confusion as the lightening was scorching the overcast sky above them, flashing in short intervals. The bright lights attracted the attention of anyone whom was nearby, allies and foes alike.

Pushing against the Commander and his Eternity Blade, Strife stood his ground, keeping the illuminated sword from finishing his white steed, lying injured on the plain in the middle of nowhere, destitute to the eyes and ears of those nearby. His eyes blazing from behind his face plate, Strife glared at the Commander just as equally insistent with his wings poised and his stance wide.

"You must let me spear the beast, Horseman…if you want to ever ride him again," the Commander groaned while grimacing against the sparks that scattered from the blades pushing against one another.

"Conquest will not be a test subject for your _divine_ artifice, Cherub!"

"It is not a ploy, Horseman…only the whim of the Archangel of Death can save him now!"

Without warning, a loud shriek was audible in the near distance. The noise penetrated the barrier that enclosed the Horseman and the Cherub, shattering the ambience between them and the others. Fury and the Angels were quick to cover their ears as the high pitch scream shrilled between them, ringing in their heads.

"_Bah_, by Heaven, what is that?" one of the Cherubs bellowed while Fury cautiously looked up with her hands still clung to her ears,

"Strife…" she yelled over the noise as the Commander yielded from Strife to leap a few feet back, redirecting his focus to the commotion that was ahead of them.

The shrieking suddenly subsided, releasing the group from the ear-splitting noise, only to be followed by low, heavy sounds of footsteps approaching from the south. The Angels turned their attention to the culprit of the bustling tremors while Strife directed his gaze to the direction of a low, bellowing sequence of grunts. His eyes widened at the new monstrosity that entered the arena, trampling the pale grass underneath their heavy feet.

"HAVOCS…" the Commander bellowed out, branding a shield made of an iridescent, plasma buffer, drawing it's power from the gauntlet on the Commander's arm, "…find cover Horsemen…before they open fire!"

"Before they _what?"_ Fury asked frantically.

"Hurry! Take your horse and go, now!"

Strife pulled out Mercy, loading a fresh clip while still glaring at the new menace that entered the field.

"Go sister…take Desolate and find cover, before we lose him too."

"I'm not leaving either you or Conquest…" Fury protested,

"Conquest is my responsibility. Desolate is yours…" Strife continued as he readied his pistols, "…you are the faster rider, so go with the Swords of Eden."

"You actually expect me to trust these _feather dusters?"_

Strife soon turned his glare to the defiant Horsewoman, his eyes burning brightly,

"I expect you to trust me, just as Death expects me to trust him. Don't make me have to tell you again, Fury!"

Letting out a slight growl while returning a menacing glare, Fury complied and leapt up to mount her steed, Desolate, placing her feet into the stirrups as she lightly tugged on Desolate's reins.

The Havocs were approaching them with a menacing appearance, husky in build while moving on bionic legs. A collage of warm organic tissue mingled with cold impervious, carbon steel, while their arms wielded chain gun attachments instead of hands. Peering with blood red eyes, glistening over the callous skin on their bony faces, their teeth were bared with tusks protruding from their lower mandibles. From their crown they carried two sets of colossal horns, one made of dense bone, the other made of jagged metal. It was the same, industrial steel that made up their bionic limbs, along with a long bionic tail, sequential in layered spiny vertebrae with a spear tip at the end.

With each massive step, they moved closer and in range as the chain drum started to move, getting ready to fire their dual mini guns. While Fury and the Cherubs attempted to take refuge to a bed of rocks nearby, the Commander stayed behind, branding his plasma shield in front of Strife,

"You must go, Cherub!"

"We cannot afford to lose any of the Four, Horseman…that is what he's trying to do!"

"Who, Angel?"

"The Demon Lord, Mephistopheles…his first attempt to break the Four had failed…but he was successful putting away the Archangel of Death, and the Demon Chamberlain, Samael, giving him just enough time to access the "legion."

"Wait…you were two steps from trying to impale my steed, and here you're saying that you're mission all along is to bring the enforcers of the law into one once again? Why would an Angel care to see War returned into his full integrity?" Strife insisted, wondering what part the Sword of Eden play in all of this.

"Listen closely Horseman…regardless what rumors infest the Council of Cherubs, the _Circle of Seraphim _keep the law, and the Archangels decline to play ignorant. Azrael has long known that War was just a scapegoat."

Strife stood back from the Angel, knowing full well if anyone knew anything concerning the Archangels, it would be Azrael; _so that's why the Council wants him locked away…and it wasn't because of his transgressions. War was right all along!_

A thunderous roar rattled the vicinity around them as the Havocs raised their arms. The Commander raised his shield before them.

"The Havocs are slow to move, but their miniguns are rapid and devastating," he warned Strife, "…the only window we may have to advance is when their guns get overheated."

"And how long is that?" Strife asked, anticipating a bleak answer.

"Fifteen, maybe, twenty seconds."

_Damn._

Suddenly, the howls of the Havocs could be heard in the distance as they opened fire at the two in middle of the field,

"Get down, now!" the Commander bellowed out before hitting the ground.

In the distance, the hideous growl of the Havocs were audible as Fury turned her horse around, just in time to watch the damning beasts fire on the duo. Her eyes widened at the scene while the other Cherubs hovered idle a few feet in the air, contemplating to each other before the sounds of clopping could be heard in the distance.

"He is here…he is coming," one of the Cherubs announced as the sounds of moving feet became more audible. Branding their swords as they catch the scent and sounds of something familiar,

"Keep ya swords to yourselves, _Pigeons," _a voice bellowed out from the thicket nearby as the Old One Ulthane plowed through the brush, "…I should'a known one day ya would rear yer flashy glowsticks at me!"

The Cherubs lowered their arms as Fury pulled Desolate towards the massive blacksmith. Ulthane stood erect from pushing through the thick brush and gazed at the Horsewoman from where he stood,

"_Ah, _well now, idn't dat a sight," Ulthane mused as he turned over his shoulder, yelling at the audience following him, "…hey boy! Ya didn't tell me ya got a lovely girly in ya little parade!"

War pulled himself from the thicket, brushing mangled twigs and foliage from his armor, grumbling in the process,

"I didn't believe it to of any importance to you, Blackhammer," War responded while still pulling leaves out of the crevices of his Abysmal Armor.

"Are ya kiddin me? She's a lot prettier at look at dan starin at your moody, ugly ass any day!"

War gave Ulthane a frumpy groan, still trying to remove the forest debris from his hair. Ruin soon followed the two as he shook his main profusely, attempting to do the same while clopping his fiery hooves, burning the mud he accumulated on his legs from walking through a marsh.

Fury's eyes burned in urgency as she blurted out to War, whom was still a few steps behind Ulthane,

"War…Strife is in dire need of assistance!"

"What?" War quickly raised his head to the voice of his fellow Nephilim.

"It's true Horseman," one of the Swords of Eden approached the group, "…the Havocs have found us, and the great white steed is near peril!"

"Conquest…" War muttered, his eyes burning in anticipation at the dire news. Ignoring the rest of debris that still clung to the armor, he moved forward, passing Ulthane while Ruin soon looked up and turned his ears to the commotion ahead. Gunfire could be heard from where they left the Commander and Strife behind.

"Uh oh….dat didn't sound good," Ulthane grumbled, "…those damned Havocs will tear dem ta pieces if we don't do some'tin quickly."

Peering out towards their location, War could faintly see the distinguished aurora that was Strife's.

"He's alive, but for how much longer…" War sneered, looking for a place to close in towards the Havocs, whom have a wide firing range from their meddlesome miniguns.

"Over there, Horseman," one of the Cherubs pointed out, gesturing towards a bed of rocks near their position,

"Well dat's a great pace to have cover…but just do ya suppose we get der?" Ulthane asked sarcastically, knowing that the Havocs will not just simply let them pass on through.

"We have a teleport orb," the Cherub responded before pulling out a handheld, glimmering orb, glowing red in his palm.

"Where'd you get dat der ball, Pigeon?" Ulthane asked in amazement, knowing that such an instrument was not widely found, much less known. _How an Angel would come to possess such an instrument was questionable indeed._

"You can get from here to there by channeling its properties…but it can be only used once," the Angel responded before handing the instrument to War. War held it up for a moment and then turned to the Angel and nodded.

"Then let's not waste any more time," said War as he activated the orb by squeezing it in his massive, gauntlet hand, cracking the crystal casing as a glowing wisp of dust seeped from the red ball of light.

Despite the awkward present company, Ulthane yelled over to the Horseman,

"Raise it up boy…show da orb where ya wanna go. It'll point it out at ya like a magnifying glass."

War did as he was told, and the orb began to hover out of his hand. Suddenly, the aurora grew larger and started to open up like a portal. Almost instantly, a breeze could be felt from the portal, tearing a hole into another dimension. The opening widened, just enough for someone to walk through as the group glared at it in awe, until Ulthane broke the moment,

"Yea, yea, it's pretty…now quit lookin at wit yer yappers open and hurry up and walk in before it closes!"

"Just walk in it?" War reiterated, raising his brow in suspicion.

"Oh fer peat sake, I'll go first just so ya don't wet yer britches," Ulthane grumbled as he proceeded to walk in through the portal first. Within one step into the hole, a brisk wind encircled them as the portal pulled him in. After the transfer, the wind then subsided as the portal still hovered in the air. As the others stood back from the massive hole, War was next to follow. Stepping closer to the orifice, a force lured him in and yanked him into a void until he came down onto a heap rocks and cacti.

The moment he landed into the rubble of stones and cactus stems, he could already hear Ulthane nagging about pulling stickers out of his rear.

"_Gah_, that blasted portal…ya think you could have picked a better spot at land?"

"_Shut up_, Blackhammer," War growled while trying to pull himself out of the same predicament, pulling stickers out of the exposed portion on his buttocks. _Note to self…kevlar doesn't hold a damn against thorns and thistles._

"…and I'm sure dat pretty sparkling light drew the Havocs attention to our little rendezvous," Ulthane sneered, still picking stickers out from his arms, "ah, damnit…I'm a gonna end up pickin dis prickly crap outta me all friggin' day!"

Suddenly, a bellowing howl could be heard as the two looked up at the startling noise. They soon noticed that the Havocs did see the portal open behind a bed of rocks near their location, taking their attention away from Strife and the Commander…or at least for the time being.

"_Fire…" _one of the Havocs barked as War and Ulthane quickly dropped what they were doing and dove behind several boulders that stood between them and the Havocs.

The array of continuous gunfire sprayed along the rock barge, shredding the edges into shards as pebbles rained on top of War and Ulthane, like mulch. The barrels of the mini guns started to simmer as the cylinders began to glow red before the bionic creatures, ceased fire for a moment.

Ulthane began to growl in irritation as he bellowed from their place of cover,

"For peat sake, couldn't ya wait till we get these little prick's outta my ass before we get playin?" Ulthane yelled out.

"I don't believe they give a _damn_ about your _whiny ass_, Uthane!" War yelled back in annoyance, trying not to rub up against the boulder too much to avoid the stickers still embedded in his skin. Both still had their arms raised over their heads from the rock chips falling from the array of bullets grinding against the boulder.

Taking a moment to see what the delay was, Ulthane decided to stir the waters a as he turned over his shoulder, yelling out to the beasts,

"When ya persistent bastards wanna actually get into the fight, why don't'cha come on over a little closer so I can smack ya into kibbles…" Ulthane sneered, gripping his hammer tight in his massive hand. Shortly after Ulthane made his rhetorical statement, the Havocs resumed their squadron fire, and Ulthane slumped back into cover, out of firing range.

"A lot of good that did," War groaned while bringing his gauntlet hand over his head to shield him from the debris raining over their heads.

"_Eh_, it was worth a try…besides, anytin' to buy us some time…" Ulthane replied as he shrugged,

"For what?" War growled.

"Well…they gotta run outta bullets sometime."

Just shortly after Ulthane's comment, the head of the group could be heard blurting out,

"_Move forward!"_

Slightly peering around the boulder while avoiding the array of gunfire, War soon noticed that the Havocs were moving towards them, closing in into their position. Directing his gaze back to Ulthane, War gave him a sour look.

"Now what?" War grumbled.

Ulthane shrugged his shoulders while letting out a massive sigh,

"…it seemed like a good idea at da time."

Without warning, a high pitched scream could be heard coming from the bed of rocks nearby, on the other side of the firing squad, as the Havocs stopped firing their miniguns for a moment to turn their focus on the noise coming from nearby. The sound of a scream was almost enticing to them, feeding on the horrible shrilling of what sounded like a human in agony. Curious, they turned their attention away from the two, directing their focus to the distressing wailing ahead of them.

Within that moment, a figure leapt over them, firing dual pistols from over their heads, impaling one of the Havocs in the exposed collar bone from above. Before they realized it, one of their own was wailing in pain as the heavy Havoc slumped down, dropping his arms to the ground, unable to fire his weapons.

Falling to the ground beside them, Strife drew their attention from the bed of rocks, and fired at them, alternating between Mercy and it's other half, Redemption.

"Quick laddy…now's our chance to even da odds," Ulthane blurted out as War nodded and the two darted from their cover, branding their weapons, preparing to strike.

Within a few seconds Ulthane was able to swing his massive hammer, bringing it down hard to the ground as the foundations of the floor beneath them shook. The loud, ear-splitting crack from the hammer making contact to the ground, startle the Havocs as War flanked them on the other side, wielding Chaoseater, sweeping through the beast horde by first severing the miniguns attached to one's arms, cutting through the flesh at mid-arm. The creature howled in pain, causing the others to meander in disarray, while War sparred no time working his way to the next.

The second thrashed at him, swinging its limbs, trying to shoo the Nephilim away, but War managed to get underneath the beast and thrust Chaoseater into its' neck. Gagging and hemorrhaging, the Havoc started to falter and fell face first, crashing to the ground.

Ulthane followed, making short work of the one Strife was able to maim by dropping the enormous Blackhammer over the creatures head, bludgeoning it under its force. Its limbs twitched a few times before it ceased to move as Ulthane picked up his hammer again, getting ready for the next. The last two Havocs of the horde managed to regroup as the chain drums to their miniguns could be heard.

"War…Blackhammer, find cover, quick!" Strife yelled out, but the they soon realized that they were too far out to find any reliable cover.

"Ulthane…the fallen Havoc…raise him up. The armor can by us some time…" War yelled to Ulthane.

Nodding in compliance, Ulthane grabbed the nearest corpse and carefully raised it just in the nick of time before the spinning barrels began to fire. War leapt behind Ulthane, using the dead Havoc as a meat shield while bullets ricocheted off its steel armor.

"_Ugh_…I dunno how long we can hold this out boy," Ulthane groaned, trying to hold up the heavy beast while feeling the force of the bullets hammering against the armor. Ulthane could feel the steel creak and crack under the force of the continuous fire.

Strife tried to flank them from the side, but one of the Havocs moved one arm to direct its fire in Strife's direction while keeping his other towards War and Ulthane, slowly picking the dead havoc apart as each minute goes by.

On the other side of their position, the Commander managed to fly down behind a trench before the other Havoc also redirected one of his guns towards the trench, shortly after cooling off the smoking barrel with its own urine. Folding his wings behind his back, keeping them from getting clipped, he ducked down behind the mound, waiting to recharge his shield.

Another minute went by and the meat shield had already lost both arms and a shoulder.

_"Ahhh_…now would be good time at do sometin', boy…" Ulthane griped.

"Strife and the Cherub have divided their attention…move forward…" War replied.

"Say _what?"_

"Hurry…move forward, before we lose this thing for good!"

"Ahhhh…oh ta _hell_ with it."

Ulthane did as War instructed and pushed forward, carrying the heavy beast with both hands while still trying to keep it between him and the line of fire. From the distance, the Commander could see what the two were attempting to do as he lit up his recharged, plasma shield, and stood back up, keeping his wings folded behind his back and a sword ready in hand.

Suddenly, the Commander raced forward, hoping that his shield had enough life to stay operational while he charged towards one of the Havocs. Keeping his arms pointing in two different directions, the Havoc tried to keep everyone at a distance, but his barrels started to overheat, causing the drum to shut off on one of his miniguns. Within just a moment, the Commander leapt up, spreading his wings to bring his sword down into the Havoc's shoulder, shutting off the minigun attachment permanently by severing the sub dermal power conduit that led to the arm, feeding the motor to the cylinder.

Sneering in rage, the beast swung his other arm, smacking the Cherub to the ground while his sword was still embedded into his shoulder. War was quick to move as he came in with Chaoseater in hand, bringing it up to pierce the creature into the neck, but the irritated Havoc quickly raised his bionic hoof and kicked War, sending him flying to the ground.

Realizing that the meat shield was close to decimation, Ulthane charged and rammed the other Havoc, using what was left of the carcass's horned head to puncture the creature in the chest. Pushing against the beast, Ulthane could feel his feet sliding back as the angry Havoc pushed back, summoning the strength of his hydraulic legs, snarling while thrashing the meat shield with his horned head, completely wasting what was left of the corpse.

Suddenly, a breeze picked up around them, whistling between the masses while everyone froze, feeling the cold draft slither around them. The ambience in the air had taken a turn, lifting the spores around them, hovering from the ground while the Havocs peered through the vacuum with blood shot eyes. Gazing at a silhouette that was standing before them with glowing green eyes, peering at them through the haze, something began to choke the air out of them. Mucus began to accumulate along their trachea, causing the Havocs to cough violently, writhing on the pestilence that had taken a hold of their lungs.

Ulthane watched in awe as the beasts slowly wasted away, their flesh, their bones turn to dust while what remained of the corpse was the steel, hydraulic skeletons, laying idle in a heap of armor and steel shards. All that remained around the two Horseman, the Cherub, and the Blackhammer, was scrap metal, buried in the withered clumps of decay.

Standing back while brushing the dust from his shoulders, Ulthane peered out to the others, somewhat stunned from what transpired, but Ulthane knew all too well Plague's signature,

"Well boy…I guess we're in real trouble now…"


	13. Chapter 12 With Company

**Chapter 12: With Company**

The air that was once bristling with energy is now flaccid and quiet. The spores of the Earth settle back into dormancy, nestling into the deep crevices of the land, until the next time Plague would summon them again.

The dark, shell plated Elemental walked between the crowd of weathered metal debris, left behind by the Havocs. Plague was making a good stride towards the great white steed, still lying solemnly in the field. Closing in the distance, the white steed known as Conquest, raised his head and twitched his ears to the faint footsteps of the Elemental approaching him.

Despite the hideous appearance of the creature that was moving towards him, with menacing, glowing eyes, illuminating from behind an ominous mask, Conquest did not flinch. The thick incisors and protruding canines set in between the tusks that bellowed out from the bottom of its mouth, and the long, swaying tendrils that hovered from the back of its head, didn't intimidate the white horse...but to men, the facade of Plague was a force that beckoned humility.

Reminiscing the days of an Mongolian empire that ravaged all of the land known to the Third Kingdom as Asia, Conquest watched from the horizons as an emperor, whom called upon the pagan deities to protect the wealth of his kingdom, raised two, Fu lions, to sit on either side of the gated entrance into his _forbidden palace._ The wealth of men, however, was worthless against the pestilence that came unto them, and exceeded the death toll of all of mans' wars combined. It was from there, the Black Death spread along the traveling routes between Asia and Europe. But once natural immunity set in, strengthening man's physical design, the pestilence soon weathered off and the remnants of a once thriving empire was left as a reminder of man's mortality, despite the guardian Fu lions that sat in front of the entrance into the Forbidden Palace.

_…and now, the façade of Plague is a reminder to the race of men, that there would come a day that their Guardians could no longer aid them._

Carefully moving along the soft grass beneath it's feet, Plague came closer to the steed whom was still lying lame from the attack of Hell's dogs. Plague knelt down carefully next to the massive horse, gazing at his injuries caused from the Hellhound's jagged teeth. In the near distance, Strife could see the dark creature that was knelt down next to his steed as the Commander flew over to join them, flapping his widespread wings a few times before closing them behind his back.

"By what means does that thing insist on touching the white horse?" Strife growled, tightening his grip around the stock of Mercy.

"The Elemental will not harm the steed," the Commander reassured the Nephilim before Ulthane reiterated,

"He's right, lad…Plague will not cause any more harm to yer horse."

"Now why should I place faith in the creature of the pestilence?" Strife sneered as he turned his irritated gaze to War. War could only give Strife a blank glare, but then turned away as he too walked over to the white horse.

With Fury still mounted on Desolate, she moved her horse next to Strife,

"So…is this the Elemental guardian we keep hearing about?" she asked as Ulthane directed his gaze to the horsewoman,

"Aye…well, at least until his day in court."

"…and when will that be, Old One?" she asked of Ulthane.

"For yer sake, and for da sake of da balance, hopefully soon."

Making his way to Strife's stallion, still lying on the field, War could see Plague was still knelt beside the horse despite that the massive beast dwarfed the Eleemntal, even with lying on his side. It wasn't long before another neighing could be heard in the closing distance with Ruin not too far behind, following War.

Plague turned its' head to see War gradually approaching him with Ruin close behind.

"This will only take a few minutes, m'lord," Plague said calmly, placing an exposed, fragile human hand over Conquests' muzzle. Stopping in his tracks to gaze at the injured steed, War scanned the beast from the tip of his nose to the ends of his tail. The white steed was the largest of the Four, with Ruin coming into a close second. The feathery, massive hooves that made up Conquests feet were known to cause the ground to tremble underneath his stride. _Strife chose his companion well._

Ruin moved over next to Plague before he lowered his head, shaking his fiery mane before lowering his muzzle to tap Plague's shoulder with his nose,

"He'll be fine, I can assure you," Plague said solemnly while War just turned his bemused gaze to the duo.

"Oh, now I see how it is…" War grumbled as he turned his menacing glare to Ruin, whom just gave out a snort in return, "…take _his_ side why don't you."

Ignoring War's nagging, Plague continued to stroke Conquest's forehead while the white steed continued to lie still and tranquil. War stood over them, taking notice of Plague's exposed hand, stroking the steed's head. Realizing that War was observing them closely, Plague looked up to the horseman,

"I didn't want to expose the horse to anything that would make him sick…" said Plague.

"I can only imagine," said War with a raised brow of suspicion, catching Plague's oxymoron.

"I can control all external pathogens, but I am somewhat limited to the internal one's," Plague responded with qualm, continuing to stroke Conquests' forelock.

"Do you have any control over the pathogen elements in your human form?" War asked, curious as to how the creature worked. He knew that the Elementals' abilities in general were bound to the Earth realm, but he didn't know how they harnessed the Earth's elements to their bidding.

Plague didn't give War an immediate answer, but instead, just turned to gaze at War behind the dark, mask that seemed to be central to Plague's life-force. Although the gaze from such a façade would send chills down anyone's back, War had long become indifferent with it, not finding any malice in Plague's stare at the very least.

Without making any gesture or rebuke, Plague turned back to Conquest, and then spoke in monotone,

"This…shell, grants me immunities my human flesh, otherwise cannot…but with or without it, I can still summon them at a whim."

After Plague's statement, War let the topic go for the time being, knowing that Plague trusted him enough to let him in on Plague's limitations, but not enough to compromise the orders of his master. As the breeze brushed passed them, War noticed the white steed was slowly moving his leg, pulling in his hoof and then flexing the fetlock joint into a slow stretch. Conquest groaned for a moment, carefully extending his back legs one at a time. Ruin raised his head in response to Conquests' moaning, and took a few clops back to give the white horse more room. Plague too stood up to retreat back, along with Ruin as Conquest lifted his head to shake his feathery, white mane.

War moved back to watch the magnificent horse gather himself slowly to prop his legs under his heavy body and then carefully raise himself up. Slowly but surely, the great white steed was back on all fours, still keeping some weight off of his maimed leg. It wasn't long before the others joined them, watching in awe at the massive glowing steed, illuminating once again.

As soon as the others reached their position, Plague slowly approached the apprehensive horseman, Strife.

"Please understand horseman, this remedy is only temporary…" Plague is careful to warn him.

"Then whom should I go to for proper healing?" Strife asked as he walked over to Conquest to pat his cheek. Plague shook his head as the tendrils swayed from side to side, knowing what Strife asked was next to impossible.

"I only know of one whom may have the means of restoring your steed, but he is locked away until judgment. I don't know of any others that can access such means."

War's gaze moved to Strife as he watched his brothers' eyes glisten brightly behind his face plate. Although they may have quarreled in the past, he couldn't help but to sympathize with him this time, knowing that he too would do almost anything for Ruin. They were one; the steed and his rider, and even death itself could not permanently part them. They were the Four, the Riders of the Apocalypse…and all submitted to their authority under the guise of the Charred Council.

"By whom do you speak of Plague…that may be able to heal Conquest?" War asked, despite his own suspicions as to who it could be.

"The Archangel of Death, Azrael, would have the ability to heal him…" Plague responded.

"_Could have_…as in past tense, Elemental," Strife reiterated.

Gathering Conquests' reins, Strife carefully guided the horse to take a few steps as the others gave the duo some room. The mood that hung heavy in the air was indifferent amongst the rag-tag group. Trust hung delicately on a fine line as the Horsemen kept their distance and the Angels kept theirs. It was then the Commander decided to change the ambiance and moved towards Plague, removing his sword from his sheath to thrust it into the ground.

"I must intervene, Plague…if you mean the horsemen well…" the Commander insisted, taking a few steps backwards, acknowledging his unchastely intentions. Suddenly War's eyes became fixated on the two, wondering how Plague came to know Azrael and his personal guard, the Swords of Eden.

"Commander Haamiah, I am indebted to you and the service you offered my former master, but I no longer have full access to his blessings. The Destroyer made sure of this when Straga took him in chains."

"…the Council cannot hold him forever, Plague," the Commander, Haamiah reminded Plague. Ulthane suddenly entered the conversation as his low, booming voice spliced the comfort zone between them,

"No, they can't…but if they don't condemn da horsman, then they'll carry der sentence out on da Archangel of Death…" Ulthane elaborated, "…and den, they may carry their sentence against me."

"Not if you stay in exile, my dear Ulthane," a singe of insistence flowed from the dark, raspy voice of Plague. As the glowing, green gaze met with Ulthane's, he continued,

"_Ack_, don't ya be worrying over me, you silly thing! I've lived long enough at know what da meaning of what life was meant at be. Besides, if anybody needs anybody watchin over their sorry, ungrateful ass, it be dat der boy wit da frumpy frown," Ulthane conveniently mocked War with a smug grin. In return, War gave Ulthane the kind of glare that could burn a hole in Ulthane's thick forehead with his piercing gaze.

"…which also brings me to address another issue with the both of you," Plague suddenly spat as the Elemental's demeanor soon changed from apathy, to reproach.

"_Uh oh_, ya better run in hide boy…before Plague gives us da sniffles…" Ulthane jestered while War stood in place, folding his massive arms over his armored chest. The others could only watch to what was apparently a confrontation that only the most moderate of souls would find amusing.

Plague's eyes was burning with its hands placed firmly on its armored plated hips,

"Do you have anything to say, m'lord Horseman, before I shower any malcontent over whatever hairs you still have on your stubborn head?"

With that said, Plague stood erect with arms folded across the chest and eyes blazing, the bright green light illuminating from the sockets buried deep in the mask that made up the face of Plague. Knowing that War managed to potentially get under this dogmatic Elemental's skin, he stretched out his arms, glaring at the Elemental with a condescending smirk,

"Ok_, yes_…I've been naughty. So now I suppose you will spank me and send me to my room?"

Dropping the confrontational poise, Plague just gave War a apathetic glare,

"Despite that I seriously find your lack of concern for your own welfare disquieting, m'lord, I am willing to bend the rules for my masters' sake…" Plague said abruptly while standing tranquil in the display of War's mockery. The tendrils that were once hovering furiously were beginning to settle as Plague's mannerisms began to lax, finding composure before the defiant Horseman.

"Yes, yes, let the Heaven's fall and Hell freeze over if you stray from your masters' intentions…I get it" War grumbled sarcastically. Ulthane took a few steps to place himself between the _unstoppable force_ and the_ immovable object,_

"Now, now, _kiddie's_…don't make me have ta put ya in separate corners…" Ulthane gloated before placing himself in the middle of the fray, "…da last thing we need is making Plague get da ole britches all caught up in a wade, and of course havin' you boy, running wit ya berries in a vice,"

Before Ulthane could finish, Plague raised a finger to the massive Blacksmith,

"The both of you should be thankful that you're not trekking the rest of the way with _dysentery_…especially you, m'lord Ulthane!"

Fury placed her hand over mouth to refrain herself from laughing out load while Ruin let out a guttural snort that resembled chuckling.

"What? Oh now you're not gonna blame dis on me, are ya? I didn't tell da boy to run off…" Ulthane attempted to play ignorant. Plague resumed,

"_No_, but you have been a poor influence on m'lord's Horseman's affairs, ever since you've coupled with him..."

Ulthane started to roll his eyes while Plague continued to lecture,

"…and don't even start with me your usual list of ludicrous excuses!"

"_Good grief_…you're beginning at sound more like my fifth wife," Ulthane griped while everyone's eye's perked up in confusion towards the Old One,

"Wait…_what?"_ Strife blurted out as Ulthane continued.

"Ya know…naggin at me, _where ya going_, _when ya going to be back_…_why do ya hang out at da pub all da time…"_

"How…can…" War started before Ulthane bluntly interrupted,

"_Ah _come now boy! Old Ulthan's gotta lotta lovin to share. _Hehe,_ the lassies, they come and get their _pickle tickle_, if ya know what I mean…" Ulthane chortled, slapping his massive hand on War's shoulder, causing War's body to shimmy, _"…but_, den they get tired of my _belly achin _and move on to other pastures…"

"_Sigh_, m'lord Ulthane, can you _possibly_ refrain yourself from defiling the Horseman's head with your rendezvous pastimes," Plague grumbled at Ulthane's bluntness.

"_Pfft_, is that what yer calling it now? Why don'tcha come out and just say it…I had a grand ole time letting da lassie ride me like a pretty horsy, hehe," Ulthane chortled again, gently nudging War with his massive elbow, "…stick wit me long enough boy and I can hook ya up wit a pretty little girly, and then she might be nice enough to clean the ole pipe…"

"Alright, that's enough…" Plague interrupted before Ulthane could finish expressing his statement and proceeded to walk over to him, "…when this is over, I will _seriously_ consider leveling everything in your garden but the nagweed and brussel sprouts!"

Plague's sudden outburst caught the attention of everyone listening to the conversation, stunning the crowd into an unsettling silence while Ulthane raised a brow to the irritated Elemental. In the near distance, Ruin could be heard chuckling in between grunts, turning his gaze to War, who then turned to sarcastically glare at Ulthane,

"I suppose that is our sign to leave now," Strife broke the silence as he managed to walk Conquest a few steps without a break in stride. Already, Conquests' legs were coming to mend as Strife peered into the distance at the Elemental that cleared some of the steeds' obstacles.

"Yes…I believe Plague has made his intentions clear," War reiterated, watching Plague take a few strides ahead of them, putting distance between them, "…but we need to tend to Conquest first."

"But how?" Fury groaned, "…if the Archangel of Death is not accessible, then how can we..."

"Azrael is not the only one with who has access to such abilities," War began as he too moved over to pat Conquest on the forehead.

Commander Haamiah hovered towards them, flapping his wings a few times before landing on the soft ground,

"Then who else would have access to such healing of this caliber?" Haamiah asked, knowing that the only inhabitants left on the Earth that could even remotely aid them was either the Elementals that have gone feral, or Demons.

"There is someone whom I can go whom will have what we will need to finish Conquest's healing," said War before he turned to his fellow horseman, Strife, "…you'll just have to trust me on this one, brother."

"Indeed…" Strife said with a raised brow that could be slightly seen from under his face plate.

With the mood of uncertainty hovering between the multifaceted group, they continued to move forward, knowing that it would be only a matter of time before Mephistopheles awoken his armies from the deepest depths of Hell's dominions. It was just a question as to who was going to get the upper hand first.

_I can only hope that Death has found reliable witnesses to satisfy War's innocence, preferably sooner than later…_a thought came to mind as the Raven sat on a tree limb, watching the group from above.

* * *

_I was debating as to how I was going to compose this, if I should split it between the other events that are going on in the story, but I decided to wrap up some things here as these two groups conjoin. With three out of the four horsemen united, at last, things should start to get a bit more interesting. Again, feedback is welcome._


	14. Chapter 13 Seeking Refuge

_Although three of the Four Horsemen are somewhat united, fate has put them in a predicament. With Strife's steed still with injury, War intends to find a remedy, hopefully before the Great Demon Lord, unleashes his legions. In the meantime, the Swords of Eden intend to lead the Horsemen and Ulthane to a place of "refuge."_

_All the while, Death seeks to commune with the Elementals to provide testimony that may aid in War's innocence, but can he convince them before the Great Tribulation?_

* * *

**Chapter 13: Seeking Refuge**

_Show me how it ends, it's alright  
Show me how defenseless you really are  
satisfied and empty inside  
Well, that's alright, let's give this another try._

_~Breaking Benjamin~_

Looking out from a plateau that faced a great fire mountain the men called Fuji, Death stood at the edge, looking out over what used to be a beautiful scenic route between the mountain ranges of the island once known as Japan. Now it lies in ruin under the architect of Hell's dominion. Peering out over the foot of the mountain laid a dark forest where the desperate wailing of lost souls could be faintly heard. Although the noise was still somewhat muffled by the smoldering coming from the volcanic mountain, the despair in the poise of the wails were ever clearer to the Horsemen…_I've heard these cries many times before._

Deep in the woods of whom the Japanese called Aokigahara Forest, has long become a "destination" for the desperate where the suicidal would take their lives. Deep within the catacombs of the dense trees and the wallowing thicket, lies the souls of countless men and women, trapped in their despair and so therefore, they cried out. Some are melancholy and weep in duress, others are volatile and will gnash at those who go off the trail that meandered the woods. In either case, men have long labeled it a haunting, damning place. It was this place that men would go in, and never return. Many have long assumed that those who do not come back have most likely taken their own life, but the wails feeding from the desolate forest suggested something more sinister than just an isolated pit of remorse…_there was many an injustice that has transpired here._

What was once called a beautiful, scenic terrain is now a foul, restless tomb. Death didn't know what to make of the Elementals that inhabited the haunted woods, but he knew they were not responsible for its demise. He turned his gaze to elemental Tempest,

"Is this the only route to the sanctuary of Fuji?" he asked.

"No…but it is the most secluded from the Demon Lord's Horde."

"They do not dwell here?"

"They do not dare to venture here…no one ventures here. This place was damned long before the Destroyer engineered the Earth's destruction."

"What should we expect then when we enter?"

"I can change the climate in the air, so that it may aid our passage without constant interference from the Poltergeists."

"Poltergeists? The noise spirits?"

"…and the most precarious. They feed on the anxieties of the living, and can become violently hostile," Tempest explained as she pointed towards the trail that entered the woods, "…they do not like warm and humid air and will go elsewhere to avoid it, but we must stay quiet. If they detect us, they will act out of aggression."

Just as Tempest finished her suggestion to Death, the wails coming from the deep woods started to agitate. Death's gaze was soon fixed on the forest entrance, which was nothing more than a dark hollow surrounded by a wall of dense trees. The chill coming from the breeze was festering the vicinity, pushing past his black cloak and long locks of dark hair. His gaze however was unmovable, peering past his face plate as the sounds of the wailing started to subside the moment he gently pulled out the Harvester, and then lowered the massive blade to the ground.

"They are no strangers to me…" Death muttered, feeling the weight of their cries sink into his core, "…but my obligations to them is going to have to wait."

With that said, Death calmly continued to move forward with Harvester in hand as the massive blade glistened on the faint light coming from the heavy overcast sky, churning and entwining against the pockets of air collapsing one over the other. Watching in awe as Death moved serenely towards the forest entrance, Tempest's eyes widened to the succumbing of the voices that would otherwise wail. Feeling the weight of her obligation to aid Death in seeking her beloved, she ventured behind, keeping the air around the path, balmy enough to instill a warning to the infested woods. Shortly after she stepped one foot under the towering trees of the damning forest, another series of wails could be heard in the near distance, bellowing behind them.

…_the Hellions know that we're here._

* * *

Moving through what was once a lively rainforest, now a dry, densely populated sea of dead branches, Ulthane swung his Hammer, plowing a trail through the thicket.

"_Bah_…damn these Hellions! Dey come in and ruin everytin'…" Ulthane growled, pushing his massive body through the intertwined masses of branches and twigs. Coming up close behind him was Fury, using her whip to cut through the brush.

"Must you complain about everything?" Fury snorted, all the while trying to keep her focus on some pre-existing trail that somehow eluded them.

"Ya better believe it! I'd figured ya be used to hearin yer boyos' belly-achin…" Ulthane chuckled at the other Horsemens' expense.

Following not too far behind, Strife and War could be heard groaning, trying to make way for both them and the horses. Although Fury's smaller-framed steed, Desolate, could meander the dense thicket without hinder, Ruin and Conquest on the other hand, were too bulky to pass through without some help in cutting a more practical path.

Floating from above, Commander Haamiah of Azrael's personal guard came down in front of the group, flapping his spotted wings a few times before folding them behind his back. Staying knelt to the ground to avoid the towering branches around him, he looked up to Ulthane,

"I found the trail!"

"Well it be 'bout bloody time! For a moment I thought you left us to wither in dis prickly predicament!"

Haamiah carefully stood up, folding his wings closer to his backside as best as he could to avoid the thorns from the branches above.

"If it will make you feel better, Old One, I can escort you to the trail on foot," Haamiah suggested.

"_Ah_, well den you can find out personally what it's like to be hiking wit a twig up yer arse."

A snicker could be heard following Ulthane's blunt comment, while Fury placed her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh out loud. Pushing from behind, Strife could be heard chortling from behind his face plate as he guided Conquest through Ulthane's plowed path.

"So where is your other men, Commander?" Strife asked, pulling Conquest through the maze of branches.

"They are awaiting my arrival at the road ahead."

"Road?" War blurted out, closing in from behind Strife, "…why didn't you take us there _before_ we plowed through this weed pile?"

"It was suggested by Plague that we take this route to avoid the Incubi," Haamiah answered patiently

Haamiah could hear War growling bitterly under his tongue, still trying to push past the brush that separated him from the crouching Angel.

"Damn Plague's intuition! Where in the hell is he when we're up to our heads in a thorny hellhole?"

"Above you m'lord…" a shrilling voice could be heard coming from the trees above them.

Plague hung from the branches above them, keeping an erect posture while looking out ahead of the group.

"…and the Commander is right. The path is nearby, which will remedy your predicament soon," Plague reiterated while glancing to Haamiah, whom replied with a nod.

Plague could tell by War's demeanor that he was vexed, still chopping away with his sword, Chaoseater. Of all the fears that Chaoseater has instilled in the souls of men, Demons, and Angels alike, it is now reduced to nothing more than an overcompensating weed eater. Finally pushing through the thicket, War managed to pave enough way for himself and Ruin.

"Despite whatever direction your so-called instincts will have us venture, I must get to the Hollows," said War.

Plague slunk down from the tops of the trees and gently landed onto a heap of forest foliage.

"There is reason to believe that the entrance to the Hollows is well fortified, m'lord…" Plague began to plead.

"This isn't a request Elemental, it is an _order_. You _will_ take me to the Hollows," War abruptly interrupted Plague as he swiftly placed Chaoseater back into its sheath. He reached up to remove the red cowl from his head, revealing his stern façade as his long strands of white hair slumped over his shoulders, rolling onto his torso.

"…come Hell or high water, Elemental, I will find company there of most dire importance!"

The pitch in War's voice caused a moment of awkward silence as their company kept their thoughts to themselves, not entirely sure why War was so adamant about going to the Hollows. It was a dark and sinister place that had become a well-known refuge for the deviously unnatural. Behind the dark guise of Plague's unclear face, everyone that has experienced Plague's mannerisms up until now knew that Plague didn't take War's welfare lightly, but for whatever the reason, Plague lowered down before the horseman and submitted.

"I will take you to the Hollows, m'lord...just as you decree."

War stood bemused for a moment, not expecting the Elemental to yield so easily. Nevertheless, to keep face and salvage any more wasted time, War nodded and turned his gaze to Haamiah.

"Where does this path lead?" War asked.

"To what remains of the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers."

"Eden…" War pondered out loud.

"Only the outskirts of what was once the Garden of Eden, Horseman War," Haamiah gently corrected him.

Strife looked up in puzzlement, wondering why the Swords of Eden insisted on going to the remnant of the forbidden Garden; a place forever closed and locked away by the Creator himself.

"But Eden is closed off…abandoned and forgotten," Fury finished Strife's thoughts for him as old wounds began to resurface of what truly transpired between Humans and the Nephilim, concerning the Garden of Eden. Haamiah could see the malcontent raging from the Horsemen, but he could also see the valor in their art as well.

"The outskirts are one of a few places where the Incubi have little interest in venturing," Haamiah explained.

"Then you must go there, Strife," War suggested before Strife could even contemplate answering, "…go with the Angels…and take Ulthane with you."

"Now wait just a damn minute…" Ulthane started to protest before War abruptly interrupted him.

"…where I am going you cannot follow, Master Swordsmith. You will have to trust me on this one," War gently elaborated, hoping that Ulthane would understand his intentions. Grumbling to himself, Ulthane scratched the whiskers that hung from the bottom of his chin as he gave War a suspicious glare, but then let out a sigh, allowing War to continue.

"Conquest is still in need of proper healing, and I know where to get it…but where I intend to get it, you will not be able to accompany me, Blackhammer."

"_Sigh_…alright boy. I suppose I'll leave yer hide into the care of dis Elemental…" Ulthane said with a one-sided smirk, conveniently reminding War that he would have to grudgingly continue in Plague's company.

Leading Ruin to the front, War grumbled to himself before he propping himself up onto Ruin's back, settling into the saddle while Ulthane again found another means to annoy War some more,

"…and don't ya worry. I'll take care of "plateface" and da little lady….and maybe watch out for dem pigeons too. Just be sure ya bring Plague back in on piece. Plague's more fun ta talk wit dan you are."

"I'll be sure to remember that…" War mumbled before letting out an exasperating sigh. War straddled in the saddle to reach for the reins, but before Ruin could move, Fury pushed through the crowd, huffing under her breath as she approached War.

"How can you leave now? Does not the fact that you have a price on your head matter to you at all? What of the Demon Lord, whom is on the brink of unleashing his legions, not to mention others that may be waiting in the shadows, ready to bring you to the Council's _perverted_ justice…"

"If this threat is as peril as Death has said it to be, then we must utilize the strength of the Four. Someone knew this long before Abaddon became the Destroyer…he was just a pawn for a more, convoluted scheme."

"So you run and separate yourself from us, giving whomever that may profit from this a chance to hunt you down?"

"Well, apparently, someone has also known that this will happen and has…sent this Elemental to prevent _that_ from happening."

"You are WAR…no one will best you, or us! How can any _measly_ Elemental keep the Demons at bay, much less those Hellspawns?"

_I've been asking that myself for nearly a week now, _War grumbled to himself, knowing first hand that Plague, despite its mild stature in comparison to War's, was anything _but_ measly. _Perhaps these Elementals are not as weak and incompetent as we would want to believe._

Despite the spiteful tone in Fury's objection, Plague carefully stood up and gently gestured to War,

"This way will be the more prudent path, m'lord…" said Plague. Fury resumed to cross her arms over her armor strapped bosoms, giving Plague a stern gaze.

"If I find so much as a scratch on my fellow Nephilim, Elemental, I will not reply in such kind," Fury snorted before turning back around to march over to her steed and mount him. Falling elegantly into the saddle as her feet slipped into the stirrups, Desolate shook his mane a few times before moving to meander through the thicket, taking the lead to the road nearby.

Although the weight of Fury's threat could be felt among those in earshot, Plague merely bowed its head in humility as the long, streaming tendrils shifted to the front, hovering around its chilling façade. Haamiah was the next to move as he called out to Ulthane and Strife,

"This way gentlemen…" Haamiah gestured tucking his wings tightly behind his back before moving forward. Ulthane let out a groan as he gave War one last glare before reluctantly following the Angel, with Strife following shortly behind, guiding Conquest by his reins as they both took the hike on foot.

Watching the others venture off until they disappeared into the thicket, Ruin let out a snort before shaking his fiery mane and clopping his burning hooves on the barren ground. War took a moment to pat Ruin on his neck before turning his gaze to the grounded Plague.

"Now, that we have a moment out of their ear's reach, why do the Incubi avoid the outskirts of Eden and why do Azrael's guard seek refuge in that forbidden place?"

Slowly sitting up from the crouching position, Plague proceeded to walk past Ruin to begin their trek to the Hollows. Taking a few more steps before Plague initially acknowledged War's question, Plague turned its head to the side, giving War a partial glare from the peripheral view coming from Plague's illuminating eyes.

"I…am not entirely sure…" Plague finally replied, and for once, Plague really didn't have an answer to War's question. It was unclear as to why the Swords of Eden would return there; _is there something that Haamiah knows that I do not?_

Although Plague has long known that Azrael gave Haamiah and the rest of his guard, specific instructions before his confrontation against Straga, Plague never knew what those directives were. Plague could only guess that whatever fate would eventually await them, perhaps that was the place they would be destined to find it…_and then what would you have me do, master?_

Although Plague's answer only brought on suspicion, War shoved the prodding aside and gently tugged on the reins, nudging Ruin to follow the Elemental to the Hollows, where War intended to seek out the services of the Merchant of Souls, yet again.


	15. Chapter 14 Brace Yourselves

_Seeking out Vulgrim in vortex located in the Hollows, War and Plague hit a snag along the way. In the meantime, the Swords of Eden, Ulthane, Strife, and Fury, come across a grim discovery._

* * *

**Chapter 14: Brace Yourselves**

The overwhelming firepower coming from another of Mephistopheles' unholy creations kept War and his familiar trapped between Hollows entrance and the rocky terrain, littered with massive stalactites that stood well over the towering trees nearby.

Peering past the veil of haze coming from the debris left from the continuous gunfire grazing the rocks and boulders, War could see two Hell Knights firing with both chain-guns, one on each arm. Between the massive Demons stood another Demon, chanting in a language that was not familiar to the Nephilim. The haze kept the creature concealed in the meantime, but his chanting was most annoying, along with the guttural bellowing coming from the Hell Knights each time they stopped to reload their chain-guns.

_These instruments of warfare are not the usual Demonic forte'_…War admitted, trying to reason if this was Mephistopheles' primary means of combat, outside of the swords and sorcery of the Demon's usual craft. _No, the Demon Lord is using another method; this may be why he has decimated every resistance Samael has thrown at him._

War knew it was not like Samael to continue repeating the same mistakes over and over again…_Samael is just buying time, but for what?_

Plague stayed in position behind a stalactite, avoiding the blizzard of bullets that ricocheted off the limestone, causing fragments to scatter in different directions. War stood adjacent on the other side, behind a jagged boulder, attempting the same while he kept Chaoseater in hand, gripping the massive sword tightly in his palm. He turned his gaze to Plague, wondering why Plague had not summoned the spores of the Earth for aid.

Suddenly, a bellowing grunt could be heard closing in the distance between War and whatever it was that was chanting its rhetoric…

"Bah…" War cringed under the fluttering frequency coming from the obscure Demon. Lifting his head to finally get a glimpse of this thing, he fist noticed it's deep illuminating eyes, peering from a black cloak that hung heavy over its head while wisps of black hair fluttered in the faint breeze. Its pale humanoid body however was long and lithe, strutting an armor made of leather straps that concealed most of its body, with the exception of its rigid torso.

The creature began to laugh, raising his arms to reveal his massive wings that clung to his long and spiny digits. Looking carefully at the creature, his horns were metal plated, similar to that of the Hell Knight's that accompanied him, glistening under the faint light of the overcast sky. Although his face was hidden under the shadow of the cowl, his sculptured, rigged body was on display as a motif of some perversity that War had seen before.

_It is an Incubus…_

The Incubi were known for their craft as a Demon of exploitation and defilement. However their sisters of that very same incest were said to be even worse. They manifested between pleasure and pain, seducing their hosts into their whim for a more detrimental means of torture, using their instruments of pleasure to inflict all sorts of havoc through their unholy means of coitus.

The Demon could be heard moaning in between snarls as he sniffed the air for a scent. War continued to keep his ground, turning his attention to Plague, whom also had its hands placed over what War could only guess were ears, trying to elude the Incubus' screaming.

"Plague…what say you?" War attempted to yell over the hideous noise. Suddenly, Plague fell on all fours before shaking its head for a moment before directing its gaze to War,

"Cover your ears, m'lord! Hurry!"

Without hesitation, War brought his hands over the dark cowl that covered his head, just a few seconds before Plague let out a bellowing howl through its gaping, tusked jaws.

"Gahhh," War cringed from the piercing noise. He wasn't quite sure whose wailing was the more obnoxious between the insistent moaning of the Incubus and Plague's howls. The Incubus cringed under Plague's wailing, shaking his head violently. Infuriated, he yelled out,

"Enough!"

Plague ceased the wailing, turning to the Horseman,

"Quick…while I have his attention, m'lord," Plague suggested before darting out from behind the cover of the stalactite. The Hell Knights snarled at the fleeing Elemental, redirecting their attention to Plague, running across the terrain. Bouncing between the boulders and rock formations, Plague managed to avoid majority of the contact coming from the Hell Knights chain guns, before finding a place or refuge behind a jagged slab. Placing its thorny hands over its head to avoid the debris coming from the rock bed above, Plague huddled in place as the spores clung to its armored shell like lint.

With the Hell Knights distracted, War tightly gripped Chaoseater in his hand before darting into the opposite direction, unnoticed by the preoccupied Hell Knights. Meandering around the rock beds that separated him from Mephistopheles minions, War leapt from one rock to another before coming in full circle to take refuge behind a boulder, close enough to the Incubus' position. Straddled with his back to the granite rock, he peered around the corner to see the pompous Incubus, bellowing out to the other side.

"Don't hide from me Elemental…I know you're there…" the Incubus gloated in aggravation. Gnashing his teeth, he growled, scanning the area with his glowing red eyes and sniffing the air. He then turned to the Hell Knights and snarled,

"…seek out the Elemental!"

The massive beasts obliged and move forward to the place Plague sought refuge, using their armored arms to smash stalactites that were impeding their path. They continued foraging through the rock beds with their heavy bionic feet rattling the ground with each enormous step under the weight of their hydraulic legs. Their red eyes glistened from under the brow of their steel plated helmet that wrapped around their bony faces with only their tusks visibly seen protruding from their gaping jaws. Smoke seeped from the barrels of their overheated chain guns that were fused to their arms, using them now as battering instruments to pave a way through the rock bed.

_Why doesn't Plague incinerate them like he did before_, War had to ask himself. Whatever the reason, apparently Plague went through some trouble to separate the Hell Knights from the Incubus…_so I better make the most of it_.

It wasn't long before the Incubus caught a foreign scent in the air and then prostrated his legs in alarm before turning around. War didn't delay any further as he darted henceforth, ready to swing Chaoseater at the menacing Demon. Suddenly, the Demon raised his arm as a plasma beam broke forth from his bionic gauntlet, creating an oval energy shield before War brought Chaoseater on top of it. The sudden slam of his sword meeting the energy field, caused War's arm to jolt from the sudden contact, not even putting a dent in the impenetrable shield.

Holding his arm against the force of the Horseman's instrument, the Incubus sneered through his teeth, clenching his jaw in spite,

"So…it is true you that you live, Horseman of the Apocalypse."

War yanked his sword back before coming around to counter a blow stemming from the Demon's jagged tail.

"Do not boast, Demon…you and your cohorts will not leave this place."

"Is that so?" the Incubus cooed, leaping to the side to thrust his shield against the unsuspecting Horseman, subsequently shoving War to the ground as the creature stood back up to erect in posture.

"You underestimate the Demon Lord and his horde, Horseman."

"…and you underestimate the valor of the Four," War sneered in return before thrusting his leg against the Demon's shield, pushing him back, giving War room to get back up on his feet again, "…is my head really worth your life, Demon?"

The Incubus could be heard chuckling behind a condescending smile before raising his other arm, extending some form fitting hand attachment with a jagged bayonet, extending from the end.

"I'm not after _you…" _the Incubus snorted in return. War's eyes widened at the revelation before the Incubus knelt down, getting ready to leap at him. Without hesitation, War took evasive action as the Incubus leapt towards him, thrusting his bayonet towards the Horseman's torso. Swinging his left arm, War managed to counter the jagged blade with his Gantlet forearm, stepping to the side and slamming his right elbow into the Demon's exposed head. Snarling in fury, the Incubus managed to slither his hip and sidestep the Horseman, consequently sweeping War's legs out from under him. Falling backwards, War grabbed the Demon by the shoulder harness to flip him over his falling body before landing on the ground, tossing the Demon a good fifteen feet over his head.

Cringing in pain from landing on his back, War managed to summon his strength to roll back onto his torso and pull up his feet into a crouching position. The Incubus could be seen shaking his head from the impact of being tossed into a boulder before turning his irate gaze to the Horseman. Before either could react, a bellowing wail could be heard coming from the Hell Knights. Whipping his head to the direction of the commotion, the Incubus took a quick sniff of the air and then directed his gaze back to the Horseman.

"Clever Elemental…" the demon snorted before darting towards the direction of the Hell Knights.

"Plague…" War mumbled to himself, _"…damn."_

War scrambled to his feet, placing Chaoseater back into its' sheath before he took off running after the Incubus, whom was much more faster on his feet than War…_I better hurry_.

In the near distance, the Hell Knights were gurgling on their own vomit as they struggled to breath, choking from the buildup of congestion that filled their throats. Their bodies lashed in a last ditch effort to combat the Elemental that had taken a hold of them by turning their bodies against them, causing their lymph nodes to swell and filling their orifices with puss. The pathogens acted quickly, just as Plague always did with a whim.

Plague was crawling along the rocky terrain, prostrated to the ground while moving on all fours, keeping a somewhat safe distance from the massive Hell Knights that were gagging on their last breath of air. Plague let out a sigh before continuing to crawl, all the while clutching its shoulder, feeling the liquid ooze around a graze that somehow penetrated the lithe armor. Plague struggled to concentrate as the spores moved frantically to try and clot the bleeding before the wound weakened Plague's ability to restrain them_…just manage a little longer…_

Suddenly a high-pitch screech entered the arena as the Incubus leapt down from the jagged cliff above onto the dry, rocky ravine, landing on all fours in front of the dying Hell Knights.

_Oh no…_

Plague acted quickly, scrambling onto its feet and leapt backwards, keeping the fallen Hell Knights between the two. The Incubus turned his attention to the fleeing Elemental, watching the odd creature retreat to the rocky bed nearby.

"There you are…" the demon sneered, jumping over the Hell Knights and rushing towards the maimed Elemental. Peering through the monstrous mask with its illuminating green eyes, Plague understood that the Demon was the faster of the two and had to act quickly. Darting towards Plague at full speed, the Incubus leapt on all fours, extending his long flaying arms to tackle the Elemental. With careful timing, Plague rolled to the side to barely dodge the Incubus' attack before landing on the rocky bed below, but the Elemental's maimed shoulder collapsed underneath the sudden contact to the ground, causing Plague to crash to the ground. The Incubus stopped in his tracks as his feet slid into the sand before using the momentum to twist his body and bounce back.

The pain was more intense now than before as Plague's tendril's laxed and the spores dispersed from the surface of its shell. Trying to get back on its feet, Plague uses its functional arm and legs to try and pull back up again, but the Incubus was too quick to thrust himself on top of the Elemental. Plague quickly pulled in its legs to grab the Demon with its long, spiny feet and uses the ground as an anchor, channeling the Demon's momentum to toss him over its head.

Realizing his feat, the Demon managed to wrap his long, spiny tail around one of Plagues feet, taking Plague with him, consequently pulling Plague against a boulder nearby. The sudden contact against the rock stunned Plague as its body slumped helplessly to the ground. The world blurred out for a moment as Plague withered into a daze, feeling something suddenly grab its arms and legs, holding them down. Struggling against the force that was keeping Plague immobilized, Plague heard the words whispering in its ears, emanating from the Demon's mouth,

"You've managed to hide your scent from us well, Elemental…but now we have you," the Demon cooed, tightening his grip around the dazed Elemental's wrists, "…you're mine."

"I don't think so…" another voice bellowed out from behind the unsuspecting Demon.

The unsuspecting Incubus suddenly felt something grab him by his tail to yank him off of the bewildered Plague. Strewn across the rocky bed, the Demon collapsed onto the jagged rocks below before feeling something grab him by the long black strands of hair, yanking his head up by the strands on his scalp.

"I warned you that you would not leave this place, Demon," War sneered before thrusting Chaoseater into the back of the Incubus' neck. The demon thrashed like a wild animal before succumbing to the inevitable end as he bled out profusely from the fatal wound inflicted by the Horseman's sword. Before surrendering to his fate, the Demon managed to quickly whip his tail and graze the Horseman along the side of his torso with the spines that jetted from the tip of his menacing tail, leaving a gash. Feeling the sudden graze, War let out a grunt before taking his sword and shearing it along the Demon's neck, severing the head from his body.

Pulling himself off of the limp carcass, War tossed the severed Demon's head to the wayside before placing his hand over his wound. After realizing that he was only bleeding moderately, War ignored the wound for a moment before he turned his attention to Plague, whom was stirring slowly on the ground nearby. War stepped carefully towards the Elemental, trying not to lose his footing on the rocky bank while placing his sword back into his sheath. Meandering around the large stones, War moved to the side of where Plague was lying before carefully kneeling down next to the dazed Elemental, unsure as to what to do next.

"Plague…can you hear me?" he soon asked the inebriated Elemental.

Plague managed to carefully sit up, clutching its head as the tendrils on its scaly scalp began to move again. Groaning, Plague managed to mutter,

"I'll…be…fine. The firepower coming from the Hell Knight's firearms managed to clip me…and I…lost control."

"So you're not completely impenetrable," War figured as he extended his hand for the sobering Elemental. Turning its weary gaze to the Horseman, Plague took up on War's offer to grab his hand. War stood back up while pulling the Elemental back onto its wary feet.

"My shell is durable against most physical contact, but being only human, I can still be, susceptible to suggestion."

"Wait…what do mean by, _suggestion?"_

Plague ignored War's question while trying to stabilize its equilibrium, standing erect while turning its functioning gaze to War. Without hesitation, Plague's eyes widen at the gash that was evident on War's chest.

"Where did you get that wound, m'lord?" Plague asked frantically.

"The Incubus managed to graze me before he met his end."

Plague staggered on the rocky ground before reaching to clutch War's arm,

"We must get to Vulgrim sooner than expected. We must go now!" Plague insisted, tugging on War's arm.

"By what means for this rush? Earlier, you didn't even want me to go!?"

"…I can already hear the poison spreading in your body Horseman," Plague abruptly interrupted War, trying to get War to budge.

"Poison?" War blurted out in disbelief while still holding his ground, "…I don't feel any effects of any poison!"

"I've managed to somewhat quarantine the toxin by using the bacterium in your body so it won't spread so quickly, but it will be only a matter of time before its effect will consume you."

War could only grumble at the news, knowing that he now owed his welfare to Plague for the time being. Plague gently released War's arm before staggering backwards.

"You can't control both the toxin and mend your wound at the same time, Plague," said War as he watched the Elemental trying to keep its footing. Although War wasn't going to admit it, he started to feel concern for the Elemental as he rushed over to lend Plague a hand before stumbling backwards. Regaining balance with War's help, Plague finally responded,

"I've managed to stop the bleeding…it is not life threatening. Mending it can wait…tending to your predicament, cannot."

With that said, War realized that there was no other option. _We will have to seek Vulgrim if we are to even make it back to the others._ Without further hesitation, Plague let go of War and began to make way to the Hollow entrance nearby.

"Come m'lord. We don't have the luxury of time anymore," Plague pleaded while staggering along the rocky chasm, clutching it's maimed shoulder with its thorny hand. War followed not too far behind, carefully watching the Elemental as they entered the dark chasm ahead of them, hoping that whatever souls he had for bargaining would be enough for trade, but deep down, War was uncertain if he had enough to aid the both of them, and Strife's steed.

_There's only one way to find out._

* * *

The outskirts of Eden that was once a plentiful refuge is now a wasteland, littered in the ashes of the deceased. The terrain was nothing more than a dust bowl of decay and ruin. Remnants of trees, brush, monuments made of marble and stone were laid to waste, lingering in its own cremated ashes of what was once the most beautiful place on Earth; a place of promise and restitution.

After trekking a long and meandering trail, the Swords of Eden led the Nephilim Strife, Fury, and the Old One Ulthane, to a known Angelic outpost that was located in the outskirts of Eden, nestled between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. However, the area seemed too quiet, even for an Angelic outpost…_something is amidst here._

Looking past the wind kicking up the dust from the ash heaps, Haamiah flapped down onto what was once a watchtower made of logs and iron. Looking out from the tower, Haamiah could see the field littered with swords, shields, plasma canons; all instruments of the Demon horde and the Hellguard.

Leading not too far behind, Strife walked along with Conquest, finding the situation disquieting. Haamiah jumped from the tower to gently land in front of Strife. Standing back up, Haamiah shook his wings before leaning down to brush the sand off an object on the ground.

"I don't understand…" Haamiah admitted, picking up a Hellguard staff that appeared to have been abandoned, "…the structure is sound…these weapons are still in battle-ready condition. Where are the inhabitants? It's not like anyone, Angel and Demon alike to abandon their post, much less leave armaments behind."

Peering past the Angel, Strife dropped the reins to walk past Haamiah, towards what was once the front gate of the stronghold. Although the gate was made of solid wood, stacked three feet deep, the heavy fortified doors were completely impaled, as if something folded them in half. Wood shards were strewn all over the ground. The iron plates that held the doors together were crumpled like paper. Whatever was able to barge it down must have required a force of hundreds to demolish it.

"The entrance…it was forced," Strife pointed out, peering through the dusty haze as he proceeded to venture further past the fort entrance, made of shimmering granite stone…_definitely Angelic architecture._

The others soon joined them as Fury dismounted Desolate, keeping her poise on guard, not sure as to what to make of the uninhabited place. Ulthane wasn't too far behind before he finally caught up with them, dropping his hammer to the ground after carrying it over his shoulder for two hours.

Leaning over to catch his breath, he took a moment to look up, noticing quickly the familiar architecture of the Hellguard.

"_Bah_, why are we tampering with dis pigeon haven?" Ulthane grumbled, dusting the sand that had blown into his ruddy hair, "...the last I remember, we're not exactly at great terms wit da Hellguard…and speakin of which, where are da little bastards?"

Another one of the other Angels of Azrael's personal guard joined Ulthane, shaking his wings to brush the dust from the tattered fibers in his feathers that have been accumulating since they entered the valley of ash.

"Because Angels just don't abandon their fortresses…and even if the Demons broke in and eradicated them, it's not like the Demons to leave this pristine fort here, unused either…" he responded, "…it's not like either of them to let valuable armaments go to waste."

"I figured you pigeons would have a nose fer these t'ings …" Ulthane added as he began to brush the dust particles from his massive chest and arms, "…seeing ya birds of a feather, flock together, ey?"

"But there's aanother presence here. There's something else here, and I don't know what it is."

"_Hmph_…imagine dat."

Shortly after Ulthane's comment, Haamiah came flapping down in front of them, landing on the dusty ground with a swoosh.

"Sariel, gather the other three and search the premises. Something has happened here and we must investigate as to what," Haamiah ordered before turning his stern attention to Ulthane, "…Old One, come with me. You may want to take a look at this."

* * *

_...and it all just goes downhill from here. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read and thank you for the feedback. The next chapter is in the works._


	16. Chapter 15 Bartering

**Chapter 15: Bartering**

_Dead parts surround you,_ _draw me forever black,_  
_My creature core is crawling on the ground,_  
_Calling another, unholy wall of sound,_  
_Say that you love it, _d_on't make me turn it down._

_~White Zombie~_

Haamiah and Ulthane stood in awe at the sight that would send chills in even the most uncouth of sentient beings.

Glaring at what was once a gravel pit, is now a two-story rubbish heap, filled with severed wings, detached limbs, and other miscellaneous remains. It was a grisly sight, even for Demon standards, glaring at a mass pyre; a decadence of the utmost abhorrence. The heap was so mottled in various parts, they could barely tell what belonged to who, other than a few scattered feathers that would automatically give the impression that some of the Hellguard met their fate here as well.

Amongst the remains were also large chunks of scaly skin grafts, a characteristic texture of the Demon's, durable hide. _They too must have also been cremated here…but how, and why? Who could have done this?_

"I haven't seen a sight like dis in a very long time…" Ulthane reminisced, of what was once believed to have been faded memories of old, have now come to resurface, "…not since da latter days of our kind's existence…and before da Council declared a ceasefire between da armies of Heaven and Hell."

"Not even Azrael could predict a mass cremation of this magnitude…" Haamiah said solemnly. He bent down to reach into the heap of ash, letting his hand feel the dust mingled with fragments, slip between his fingers. Gazing at the remains that were still somewhat unconsumed by the flames, he noticed something peculiar.

"My Lord, Ulthane…"

"What is it now, laddy?"

"Look…to your right. Do you see it?"

Looking over into Haamiah's instructed direction, Ulthane scanned the heap until he came across what appeared to be an odd instrument made of a peculiar metal.

"Is dat what I tink' it is?" Ulthane muttered. He moved around Haamiah over to his right side to reach for the instrument that was lying in the rubble, trying his best not to fall in before he finally was able to reach it and bring it back to inspect it.

"That is not a Hellguard contraption," said Haamiah.

"Nor a Demon's…" Ulthane added as he brought the object closer to his old eyes. He gently moved his hand to test its weight, getting a feel for the construction of the device. The long, smooth barrel, with a stock made of some petroleum material was most familiar to the Old One. He would know; he invented it…only to have his design redeveloped by the race of men.

"I know dis contraption…" Ulthane began, "…I've seen dese many times. It's a rather ingenious thing…but dis one is small."

"What is it?"

"These go by many names…" Ulthane answered a matter-of-factly as he turned the item over onto its side, only to discover some script engraved along the stock.

"Lucy…" Ulthane read it out loud.

"That's definitely not of Angelic or Demon origin," Haamiah added.

"Aye, dat you're right."

"So whom did this, _Lucy_ belong to?"

"A human."

* * *

The dark chasm that entwined inside a mountain, long known as the Hollow, was cold and oddly luminous. Clumps of crystals that clung along the rock walls lit up the dark trenches of the Hollow with a soft glow, just enough to give the cavern a faint haze that illuminated the structures deep within.

It wasn't so much the faint light that gave the Hollows an ominous, cheerless feel, but the flux of energy that was constantly in motion, as if the air moved swiftly like a gentle wind, making low soft moans each time a breeze passed by. The Hollows was infested with paranormal activity, like a deep, dark magic, scratching the surface of this world, just waiting to be unleashed. Even those whose senses were bland could feel the restlessness of the Hollows, as if structure itself was trying to grab at them.

In and out of the passing breeze, faint voices and whispers would carry along the soft wind, some wailing, while others chanted. It was a secluded place of restlessness, as if the rock walls of the caverns closed in, suffocating the space between them.

Plague staggered along the path that meandered the Hollows, keeping balance by using the rock formations along the walkway. War hung behind, watching the Elemental move somewhat erratically. _At least he is no longer clutching his shoulder_, but War didn't doubt that Plague was in pain.

As the two follow the dimly lit pathway, War was able to make out some of the whispers that fluttered on the subtle breeze.

_Go away, creature of the pestilence…_

_Be gone, warmonger…_

It was apparent to War that neither were welcome there, but what choice did they have. _Vulgrim's keep, always seems to inhabit some of the most dismal of places_, War pondered as he picked up the pace to keep up with a limping Plague. _He doesn't look very well_, War couldn't help but to notice, but the deeper they ventured into the Hollows, the cooler it felt.

It was within that moment that War felt a chill shoot up his spine; _where did that come from? _Peering through the sparse stalactites that weaved along the cavern crevices, War could feel a drop of sweat slither down the side of his face. _Is it getting warmer?_

War stopped in his tracks to bring his hand to his face. He instantly could feel a film of moisture left by the sweat sweltering from his pores; _what is this?_ Looking over the shoulder, Plague turned around to see War wiping the perspiration from his brow.

"M'lord, you mustn't stop…" Plague could be heard pleading. War could see Plague's eyes glisten into the darkness, widened but faint. It was as if the life force in Plague was wavering.

"Why is it getting hot all of a sudden?" War demanded as he felt another chill flash all over his body.

"The…poison…it is beginning to run its course. It begins with chills and sweating, and then soon, you will begin to fatigue."

Plague staggered towards the Horseman to get a better look at War's façade,

"You're starting to pale, War," Plague groaned, "…we cannot delay anymore…and I am…struggling to hold it back."

With that said, War lifted himself up, prostrating his shoulders and back as he returned a nod.

"Then come Plague…Vulgrim's domain shouldn't be far," he said as he extended his arm for a weary Plague.

Hesitant at first, Plague finally took up on War's offer to brings its bony clasp along War's gauntlet, using the tendrils to aid in keeping balance…_just a little more, I can hold out a little longer. _Shifting its weight onto War, the horseman was quite surprised how light the Elemental was. As the two moved carefully along the dark, crooked path, War was able to take the brunt of Plague's weight with little effort.

Another feint breeze moved past them, moaning along the orifices that littered the cavern walls. Between the faint voices that moved along the wind, and the heavy footsteps of the armored Horseman, the sounds of trinkets clanging against one another could be heard in the near distance…_Vulgrim._

"Come Plague…we are near," War cringed as another drop of sweat beaded, only to fall and slither down his cheek.

Plague did not answer, but instead, let out a low, grinding grunt. War turned to the Elemental that was clinging to his gauntlet and noticed the Elemental's organic armor was beginning to crack and peel. The luminescent eyes dimmed deeper into the sockets of its fierce façade, as if Plague was literally fading into its own shell.

"Plague…can you hear me? I demand you answer me," War ordered, sweating more profusely now than before.

Gently nudging Plague that was still clinging onto him, the Elemental looked up and glanced at the Horseman briefly before its chilling gaze retreated to the ground once again. _Damn._

"You leave me no choice, Elemental," War sighed as he stopped for a moment to bring Plagues' bony arm over his shoulder. Taking a moment, War knelt down to scoop up Plagues' seemingly weightless body, and then lifted the creature over his shoulder.

Moving towards the sounds of the chimes in the near distance with Plague hung limp over his shoulder, its legs and tendrils dangling nimbly over his torso, War hastened his pace. He moved quickly against the passing breeze, feeling the air cool his warm face as the sweat began to bead and collect along his brow. With each passing step, his core began to ache; _damnit not now…not when we're so close._

What was once nearly weightless was now beginning to weigh him down_. You will not defeat me_…War recited to himself as he could feel a stirring coming from the Elemental that hung over his shoulder, feeling life churning in the creature again. Almost immediately, War could feel the strength coming back to him; _Plague is still conscience after all…but for how much longer._

"We're…almost there," War grumbled under the strain, "…hang on, Plague."

War wasn't sure whom he was trying to actually console; Plague, or himself. Although he found Plague's company more annoying than communal, he realized Plague's intentions to be sincere and had been rather helpful in some cases. Why War found himself beginning to worry about the Elemental struck him as odd. Nevertheless, both had to make it Vulgrim or together, they would fall.

Turning around a corner into another sparse sequence of stalactites, the vortex of the wormhole could be seen, at last. Just as War entered the vicinity, he felt his legs begin to buckle as he gently knelt down to carefully lay Plague down onto the ground. Feeling a great weight lifted off from his shoulder, War slowly got back up, turning his weary gaze to the churning vortex ahead.

"Vulgrim…answer me," he spat out weakly, "…I have a proposition."

The subtle voices that resonated from the deep bowels of the Hallow suddenly came to a cease. The vortex continued to hover in space, churning counter clockwise as the faint light began to illuminate from deep within the void of the orifice.

_"Welcome Horseman…and so much more worse for wear_…" a rasping voice could be heard as the Horseman War yanked his hood down from his head, revealing his long locks of hair, now damp and tattered from the heavy sweating that saturated the crown of his head. His eyes were shallow while his once burning emblem began to dim, feeling now the effects of the poison filtering into his system.

"I need…an…antidote…" War began, feeling weak and nauseous.

As a light wind meandered the Horseman's stance, Vulgrim emerged from behind the dark void. Looking down at the weakened Horseman, Vulgrim could feel his power waning from the intruder swiftly taking control of his body. War's once fierce gaze is now pale and flaccid.

_"Ah,_ my dear Horseman…" the wily merchant began in his usual, soothing voice, "…the Incubi's poison is a complex and multifaceted foe to beckon with. The price for healing will be, _most expensive."_

War could feel the deep shrill in Vulgrim's tone, as if his words were even more toxic than the poison moving through his system. Although War knew that it wasn't going to be easy, he didn't anticipate this either…_confounded Demon_.

"If you are…referring to your favorite_, repeat_ customer, well Vulgrim…I would suggest another means of bartering…" War sneered, letting out a sudden cough that toppled him onto his hands and knees. His hands were shaking as his chest tightened, compelling him to cough even more violently.

Glaring down at the Horseman with what may seem empathy, Vulgrim could only watch in awe as Chaoseater glistened under the faint light, throbbing over the sickly Horseman. It was as if War could feel Vulgrim's heavy ogling, longing for the prize, and yet was powerless to do anything about it.

"It's _your_ choice Horseman…" Vulgrim mused in condescension, "…and you are _so_ pressed for time."

"How in, _*cough_, how am I to give you anything…if I can't even _*cough_, move…" War groaned in between coughs.

"That is quite quandary, I will admit, Horseman…but what would you suggest I do? I no longer have the…_influence_ that I once retained before I fell from the Destroyers' graces. Even now, after his demise, I am still in exile…"

Just as Vulgrim was lecturing, his focus was soon redirected as a staggering Plague calmly stepped in from out of the cavern, moving forward as its' hideous voice filling the void between the merchant and the Horseman.

"Perhaps, I can be of assistance…" Plague suggested, using the waist high stalactites to aid in balance. War pulled himself up, shaking vigorously from the strain as he clutched the stalactite nearest to him with his Gauntlet hand.

"Plague, I have no need of your heroics…" War growled at the insistent Elemental. Tired and weak, War was succumbing to the stress of the poison, and Plague could see it. But despite the toxin pulsing through his veins, Plague was amazed at War's resilience against the toxin, as some of his strength still remained. _He is surely a Horseman of the Apocalypse…one of the Great Four_.

"I have…something for trade that will suffice Vulgrim's offer, m'lord."

Vulgrim raised a brow at the Elemental's proposition. The merchant's curiosity suddenly roused.

_"Yes_…listen to your…friend, Horseman…" Vulgrim quickly agreed.

"Please…leave us War," Plague asked the hesitant Horseman."

War's expression drooped into disbelief as the emblem on his brow began to burn bright once again.

"…and why should I leave the two of you, alone?" War demanded while feeling his body ache all over. Despite his weakened state, his wrath was still a powerful and deadly ally.

"Vulgrim has no authority over me Horseman. He fears me more than I fear him…"

"Do not be so suspicious Horseman…there's no logic for me to bring harm to a prospective clientele," Vuglrim was quick to insist, clutching a rune that was dangling from a leather cord around his neck.

Barely managing to summon enough strength to lift himself up, War grudgingly complied. His weakened state was enough to win him to suggestion and proceeded to leave the cavern. Carefully watching the Horseman disappear into the black void, Vulgrim readdressed his gaze to Plague, whom was standing idle for a moment before turning its attention to the eager merchant.

"Well, _well…_this is a most unexpected surprise. So tell me…_Plague_…what would _you_ give, to save the Horseman?"

Plague released its hand from its shoulder to place both hands over its monstrous façade. Carefully wrapping the fingers around the sturdy mask, slowly it unhinged the hardened veil from its face. The spores began to sparse from its tentacles, releasing long strands of dark, human hair that fell limp over Plagues' rigid back and shoulders. The shell coating began to retreat from what was Plague's face, revealing a soft glow of human skin and gray iridescent eyes. Slowly and surely, the soft round shape of feminine features took face.

Vulgrim waited in anticipation as the beautiful creature emerged in his presence, feeling his ogling eyes scanning her features that have long been hidden away from the world. Slowly lifting her eyes to the crooked merchant, Vulgrim couldn't help but feel enchanted by the Elemental's soft gaze.

_"Awe_, Plague…you captivate me with your most, concealed poise…but that alone will not be enough to remedy your…friend."

"…but perhaps something else will."

Clasping his hands, Vulgrim's crooked mouth began to widen with a grin.

"By what means can you satisfy my barter, Plague?"

"A kiss…"

Vulgrim's stone-cold heart leapt into his chest, feeling the palpitations thudding against his core in anticipation. If Vulgrim ever had anything left to salvage in his decrepit soul, his admiration of the Elemental Plague and her most untarnished essence was something of a rarity. There was something that he could see in her, and even he admitted that it is beautiful.

"A kiss from Plague…" Vulgrim could hardly contain himself as his bright eyes widen to the proposition.

"Will that be enough, merchant?" Plague reiterated.

Bringing his hands to his bony chest, Vulgrim breathed carefully, knowing the power that laid in such a simple thing, as a kiss coming from the Elemental Plague, was more than enough for a multitude of potions and magic trinkets. The idea was tantalizing to say the least; an offer Vulgrim knew he couldn't refuse…and what Plague was counting on.

But in the scheme of things, Plague knew there was a risk. With even such a trivial thing as small as a touch, or gesture was a potent sample of pathogens that could eliminate an outpost, or even massacre an army; the amount of souls that are at risk was insurmountable. It was something that Plague had long avoided for so long, keeping everything hidden underneath the shell that was Plague; a creature so cold and damning as even to look at it was sullen. It never would occur to anyone that behind the menacing mask of Plague was a yearling woman of compassion, who devoted her life to the Creator, only known to the sisterhood of the Sicilian convent as _Jenella_.

_It was I that Azrael chose, to bring the Great Plague into Europe_…_and now I must save this Horseman if I am to have any chance of salvaging this world. My master, please forgive me._

Feeling the pain that was throbbing from her shoulder, Plague asked the merchant again.

"Will my offer suffice, Vulgrim?"

"…and then some…" Vulgrim nearly choked on his thirsting words, "…your gift alone will remedy this Horseman and the great, white steed. As for your wound…"

"…I can remedy myself, merchant," Plague abruptly blurted out before Vulgrim could finish, "…your concern for my welfare is not needed."

Plague didn't want to be in Vulgrims' debt any more than she really wanted, or needed to be. It was not something she wanted to get into habit. For once one is indebted to Vulgrim's wares, then that one becomes a slave to his incentive. It was an unwritten disclaimer that many have fallen victim to, and has made Vulgrim rich.

Vulgrim closed his mouth shut as his eyes widened with glee, clasping his hands together and holding them close to his chest. He wasn't quite sure how Plague intended to give him this _kiss_, but regardless how enticing as the gesture may be from such a lovely creature behind a dark, sinister shell, a kiss can also be catastrophic if not handled with care.

"Hold out your hand…Vulgrim," Plague commanded.

Although hesitant at first, Vulgrim slowly unclasped his hands to place out his left arm. The trinkets could be heard dangling around his bony wrist, extending his hand as the clawed digits opened up. His luminescent eyes squinted at the human woman, admiring her soft, rosy pout while at the same time, fearful. Her dark long strands of winding hair complimented her soft, olive face and her iridescent gray eyes, under the soft lighting coming from the vortex nearby, but the spores that hovered around her protective shell began to sparse.

"Whatever you do, do not move and do not flinch. To move will be costly to both of us…" Plague warned Vulgrim.

"Understood, Elemental. Proceed at your pace," Vulgrim humbly grumbled.

With that said, Plague slowly clasped Vulgrim's offertory hand with her own, bare human brace, carefully keeping all pestilence away as her arms were exposed, revealing the soft glow coming from her supple epidermis. Although her shoulder ached, she carefully knelt down to retain her balance and lean over to his exposed hand.

Vulgrim's eyes widened, savoring every passing moment as she brought her lips to his cold, callous skin, feeling her gape as she pressed against the top of his hand. He could barely contain himself the moment he felt that warm, balmy touch. The contact sent a shimmy down his spine, sensing the power of the pestilence throbbing against his hardened skin. Slowly lifting her lips from his hand, she turned her head to exhale, to prevent a stray pathogen from harming him.

Vulgim's eyes were glowing brightly as his hand trembled from the moisture still clinging to his skin.

"Do not…touch it," Plague said wearily, "…or you will not be able to harness it later on."

Carefully clutching his arm, he could see the rash building around where she kissed his hand. It festered and bubbled, but it was contained, and remained without harm. Plague took a few steps back, feeling weak and barely stable as she reached for her mask.

Vulgrim pulled out his long staff and quickly brought it to Plague's side, aiding her in keeping balance while at the same time, careful not to tough her sickly shell.

"Do not hesitate any longer Plague," Vulgrim commenced as he pulled out two bottles, holding them out for her to take, "…give the red one to War. It will kill the poison and return his strength."

Plague nodded as she took the bottles from Vulgrim's grasp.

"…and the blue is for the white steed. It will heal all his wounds."

Plague stood up straight with the aid of Vulgrim's staff.

"Now go Elemental…the Horseman's time is coming to neigh."

Plague lifted up her head to give Vulgrim a solemn stare.

"Why do you care about War's welfare, Vulgrim?"

"You know just as well as I do child…Mephistopheles' army is now on march. Your friends…they will be in danger soon. I have seen the devastation that recedes their path…"

As Plague's eyes widened at the darkened news, she frantically straitened herself up.

"His army is complete?" she gasped.

"Not yet…but if the Four cannot stop the Great Lord…"

A sudden voice whispered into her subconscious as Plague's demeanor found calm. Tilting her head slightly before redirecting her gaze back to the Demon merchant, her eyes softened as she responded.

"Yes. I understand now," Plague concluded as she gathered the mask to place it back on her face. Within that moment, the spores gather and encase her façade once more, pulling her locks of hair into branching tendrils. Once again, she became Plague.

* * *

Moving as fast as the its long, feeble legs could take it, Plague caught up with a seated War, leaning against the wall with his head tilted back, wheezing as he struggled to breath. Kneeling down next to War, Plague brought his shoulder up to move his limp head. His eyes opened to the hideous façade of Plague, gasping for a fresh breath of air, and then began to relax.

"War…I have your remedy. Here, take it in…" Plague pleaded the Horseman, bringing the bottle to his parched mouth. Slowly, War brought his right hand to the bottle as the liquid poured into his mouth, lapping every drop, trickling down his dry throat.

Carefully avoiding contact as War began to cough, Plague moved back to give him more space to breath as he chugged the rest of the contents in the bottle, down to the last drop.

Plague leaned back against the rock wall adjacent to where War was seated, clutching the wound on its shoulder once again. Peering past the discomfort, Plague could see War's eyes glisten brightly once again as color began to come back to his face. Almost at once, he stopped perspiring, feeling the cool air touch his moistened skin once again as the fever subsided. He turned his gaze to the Elemental still leaning against the wall.

"I…don't know what, or how you got it…_but_…thank you," he said sincerely.

"I am instructed to protect you, m'lord…there is no need for you to humble yourself to me. Nevertheless, your gratitude is accepted," Plague could only respond, finally finding solace in War's strength returning to him, "…but we cannot delay anymore. Mephistopheles armies have reached the surface."

Feeling his vigor return into his legs once again, War lifted himself up onto his feet, feeling the aching in his back fade as he stood up erect.

"And of Conquest?"

"I have his remedy as well, Horseman."

"If what you say is true, then we need to get back to the others, before the Great Lord's minions do."

* * *

_Thanks you for the read and the feedback. My apologies for the delay, but between a personal injury and writers block, I was having a pill of a time how to construct this chapter, between the events that will unfold later. Anyway, I'm plowing ahead so stay tuned._


	17. Chapter 16 Hell Knows No Wrath

**_Recap:_**_ Racing against time, Death seeks to gain an audience with Calamity, in hopes to summon witnesses for his cause. In the meantime, Strife and Fury, accompanied with Ulthane and the cherubs of the Swords of Eden find refuge in an old Hellguard fortress, only to foresee uninvited company. All the while, War races to reunite with his fellow Horseman before they fall to the Dark Lord's ever growing, unnatural army._

* * *

**Chapter 16: Hell Knows No Wrath**

Coming to the basin edge of Mount Fugi, the once raging volcano sat at ease with only the smoke seeping from the crater at the summit above. It colored the sky in a thick patch of gray, brown, and red ash, filling it with dust and debris that was smoldering from a magma chamber beneath the unstable crust.

The Horseman Death could still smell the remnants of a great cremation of trees, grass, and other vegetation that inhabited along the flank of the volcanic mountain. The spirits of the surrounding forest simmered their wailing as Death approached the rocky ledge, divided by a lava channel of once flowing, molten rock, that is now a massive lake of dry pumice. The ropey contortions that layered the winding channel were black like coal and rock hard, which in this case was literally.

Tempest stood along the edge of the chasm that separated the basin from the landscape around it.

"This is where they have been gathering," she yelled out, pointing to a cave entrance ahead.

"Are they gathering now?" Death asked, peering through the haze between them and the entrance.

"Yes, but not here…"

"Why have they changed venue?"

"Pele, the firewoman, has been insisting on keeping schedule. Apparently she has become cross with Calamity again."

"For what reason would she be enraged with him?"

"Who knows…all I know is that Calamity tries to be reasonable, while Pele has been most conservative."

"Is Pele also willing to side with the Creator?"

"It is not of my knowledge whether she is or not…these days, it has been hard to tell who is faithful and who will not. This world has been sitting in chaos for too long."

"An even more so if the army of the Great Demon Lord is not stopped…"

"Agreed."

Entering an opening, roughly twenty meters in height and forty in width, Tempest entered Fugi, and Death followed, keeping the Harvester in hand as he meandered the wide ridges along the cavern floor, caused by an old lava flow that dried too quickly. He could hear the mountain grumble, but the cavern was stable. No seismic activity could be felt, considering that Calamity was more often than not, in a foul mood.

Entering what appeared to be hollow cavern, littered with jagged rocks being held up by a series of intricately, carved columns, Tempest stood at the edge of precipice, looking out onto the gathering floor, also carved with precision. The floor revealed an elaborate solar calendar, based on the lunar rotations of the moon and its relationship with the sun. Constellations were mapped around the moon, displaying the cluster of stars in relation to their heathen emblems that was forged by men. The craftsmanship of the hall alone was worthy of interest, illuminated only by the fire light of lava lake below the hall floor.

A balcony wrapped around the hall, with only a single, extensive stairwell made of stone to climb its lofty heights. It was obvious that the hall was carved along the basalt rock formations, long engraved by the layers of molten rock that had accumulated over time. It was a summit that may have been closed off to men since no history of the site was confirmed. Nevertheless, there it was and there, the Elementals gathered; only this time the hall was empty, save one.

Calamity stood erect on the other side of the precipice, dressed in armor that resembled the late sixteenth century, samurai of historical Japan. His long ebony hair was woven from the front to his crown, but instead of the traditional top-knot as displayed among men of ancient feudal Japan, his extensive length was pulled back into what resembled more of a queue, that hung freely down his back. His posture was erect, his chest high while his stomach was ridged, keeping a hand on the top of his Wakisashi sword, nestled snugly in a sheath on his left side.

His dark eyes were fixated on the two entering his domain as his pale face began to lax once he realized that the Horseman was accompanied by Tempest.

"Tempest," he yelled over the noise of Fugi's grumbling, "…why do you come so late in the day?"

Although the question puzzled Death, Tempest simply took it as a melancholy greeting. She could tell by his demeanor that he was under stress and that something was afoot.

"Calamity…this the Horseman Death."

"A Horseman of the Apocalypse?"

"Yes."

"Why does he come to Earth? Why does he seek my audience?"

"Elemental. Your domain here on Earth has been long subsided," said Death as he stepped forward in front of Tempest, not wasting any more time. Immediately Calamity could see that the Horseman's business was urgent.

"He wanted your conference, so I brought him to you," Tempest added, making sure that Death's intentions were understood.

Calamity peered at them, his brow hung heavily over his dark eyes while the features on his pale face was articulated by the soft afterglow coming from the deep lava lake below. Next to his raven colored hair pulled back away from his face, his features appeared strained, but composed. He was a man with a purpose, but the details of that purpose eluded the Horseman.

"Do you have your witnesses to appease the Charred Council's accusations?" Calamity asked, glaring at Death with a piercing gaze.

"I was hoping that you would serve as a witness, Calamity. It was said that you have seen the events that have transpired that fateful day…"

"…and you would be correct Nephilim, chosen of The Four. I have also heard the culprits conspire in the deepest darkest depths of the world. They whisper even now, but I can only make it out part of the time. The witnesses you seek were many."

"What are their whereabouts?"

"Some have fallen out of the Council's graces, for excusable reasons, while many have slipped to the wayside, becoming fodder for the Dark Lord's armies."

"Fodder? How?"

"While the Destroyer succumbed to his secluded demise, the Dark Lord sent out his studs, his Incubi, to rape and defile, rapidly breeding an army of unnatural beasts, many of which were Elementals, while others were Angels and Demons alike. They too have been subjected to spoil."

"Why was this never brought to the Council's attention?"

"We tried, but the Destroyer cut us off from all communication to the Council…but this is more than coincidence."

"What are you implying, steward?"

"That the Council allowed the Destroyer to sever us from them. At the time, I didn't understand why, until rumor spread of War's treason."

"Do you believe those accusations?"

"I do not."

"Will you then be willing to convince others that have also witnesses these events to step forward?"

Calamity's brow lifted, staring down from the precipice into the lava pit far beneath them, churning into rotation. Within that moment, Calamity redirected his gaze to Death, his face falling solemn.

"No."

As the haze that hovered between them thickened, the scents and sounds of Mount Fuji began to come to life as the ground started to subtly rattle beneath their feet. Death's intuition began to change face, his gaze meandered the volatile area around them. Redirecting his focus back to Calamity, he noticed Tempest walking at ease along the rocky ledge, keeping her gaze locked on Calamity as the ground tremored in between the rumblings of Fuji's core. It was within that Death realized Tempests' intentions.

"It is too late for your intervention, Horseman. The Dark Lord has already advanced…" he said with precision, his eyes fixed on Death's illuminating gaze, "…your time on Earth is done."

Rapidly, the ground began to shake vigorously, causing the cavern walls to rattle. Abrupt sounds of cracks forming along the granite ramparts echoed into Fuji's bowels. The once stable floor shimmied beneath Death's feet, causing the ledge of the cavern to rock back and forth.

Tempest and Calamity stood with ease along the ledge, watching Death from where they stood with somber eyes, knowing all too well the sting of betrayal, but for the sake of what is left of Earth's remnants, it was apparent they made their decision.

"Go back to the Charred Council, Horseman…and tell them that their authority here is no more. They have become corrupt and are therefore obsolete. The Four is divided. You will not save us, nor Heavens armies."

Death could only glare at them with malcontent, feeling the weight of the duplicity immanent. The tremors continued, becoming fiercer with each passing moment as Death tightened his grip around his scythe. Harvester glistened at the whim of its master, sensing the rile festering in his grip.

Just then, lava began to seep from the vents nearby, flowing from the orifices and into the cavern. Calamity's expression turned into irritation as he clenched his jaw, watching the molten rock flow with intensity all around them.

_Horseman…go from here. Now!_ …a voice could be heard from deep within Fuji's blistering core.

Calamity let out a bellow as his voice echoed in the hall, shaking the walls all around them, as if he was literally trying to bring the pillars of the sanctuary down; and Death knew he could do it with just a whim.

_No time Horseman! He will not hesitate to rid of you...now go!_

Without hesitation, Death took the beseeching voice and exited Fuji's sanctuary.

Entering just along the edge of the haunted forests surrounding Mount Fuji's basin, a shimmering glow could be seen, coming from the lava flow that was encircling the mountain. With each passing inch the lava meandered along the crevices of the rocky terrain, a figure could be seen coming from the flowing lava river.

It was a silhouette, moving closer with each step, glistening from the fire coming from the shell that covered the humanoid figure. Approaching the Horseman with care, the firewoman, Pele made her presence known to the Horseman Death.

"Forgive me for my late arrival, Horseman…but I had to wait for Calamity to make the first move to assure me of his intentions."

"Why have you done this? Is it out of spite, or is it out of loyalty?"

"Both. I will not deny my dissidence with Calamity, but to make an alliance with Samael's faithful is a greater matter entirely."

"So, Samael is too at odds with the Dark Lord."

"Yes, but for an entirely different purpose. I fear Calamity's reasoning's is grossly deluded," Pele explained, "…but come, you must go back the way you came. I will meet you there."

Without further hesitation, Death ventured back onto the trail through the dismal chasm of the Aokigahara Forest. Oddly the voices of the lost souls ceased to wail as the molten rock surround the basin of Mt. Fuji, creating a barrier between the forest and the once, inactive volcano. For the first time in centuries, Aokigahara Forest was no longer Fuji's hostage. The souls were now released from Fuji's prison, the dark, ravenous forest that fed on the soul's woe.

Death could feel them, reveling in their liberation from the tomb in which they were trapped for too long. _No wonder they were filled with rage. How long has this been going on without justice,_ Death could only wonder. _Why hasn't the Charred Council interfered?_

As Death continued to ponder such things, from out of the darkness of the murky trees, Pele emerged to reveal herself to the Horseman.

"This was not part of the plan, but not totally unexpected…" Death remorsed.

"I have had my suspicions, but I do not like to base them on assumptions," Pele replied, her dark eyes fixed on the façade of Death.

"That is reasonable…however, this has put me in a setback; a setback I cannot afford."

Pele's empathetic gaze was solemn as she searched for the words to find ease, but she knew there wasn't any. They have wasted so much time, and now Mephistopheles' armies have reached the surface.

"What of the other Elementals?" she asked.

"Many are either Feral, or have abandoned their post. They're no longer accountable to the Council, and as long as they remain divided, they will not stand a chance against the Dark Lord," Death replied.

"But surely the Four can stop him…"

"Not as long as the Council continues to hunt one of us down like a mad dog."

"There are still those who stand to lose at the hands of the Dark Lord and are not under the influence of Calamity…their alliance may still be of use."

"Perhaps, but time is running out, and I cannot gather that many faithful in such a short time."

"We may surprise you yet, Horseman…" Pele replied with a smile.

"Perhaps. Whom did you have in mind?"

* * *

Meanwhile, the old abandoned fort was home to nothing than more but a shell of dust and decay. Armaments laid in a burnt heaps that acted as pyre for tossed, shoddily severed limbs of both Angels and Demons. The whom and why was left in hanging in limbo as the band of Angels and Nephilim tried to put the pieces together, but their efforts took a turn as one of the Cherubs blurted out as he flew down from the lookout tower nearby.

"Commander," the cherub insistently spoke as Haamiah turned to his subordinate, "…something fiendish comes this way!"

"Whatta ya mean by _fiendish?"_ Ulthane was the first to ask; _what more could possibly go wrong today?_

Another Cherub flew down to join them, folding his massive wings behind him.

"The Sentinels! We see them marching towards our position."

"Then they know we're here," Hammiah acknowledged his subordinate.

"How do they know we are here?" Strife questioned.

"I have at agree wit da masked Horseman…how did dey know we are here?" Ulthane had to ask, confiding with Strife's suspicion.

"I cannot say, and we have yet to hear from War and Plague."

"I knew we shouldn't have let him go with that thing of the pestilence!" Fury snapped, aggravated that neither of her fellow Horsemen took her suggestion.

"Nonsense! Dat boy is safer wit dat creature than any Demon trinket or angelic battalion," Ulthane retorted.

"Sir Ulthane is right. Plague is one of the Earth's most powerful of the Elementals," Hammiah added.

"…and what evidence can you mention to back up your statement?" Fury pressed further.

"It is because of Plague that the Swords of Eden was able to escape Straga, when he came for our master, Azrael."

"Azrael?" Strife questioned, "…how is that possible?"

"We don't have a lot of time, Commander," the Cherub insisted, "…the Sentinels are coming."

"And why should we fear them?" Fury growled.

"Go see for yourself," the Cherub suggested without rebuke.

Fury dismounted Desolate to climb up the fortress wall, peering out into the distance. Looking out, she noticed a dark horizon of stormy clouds, slowly rolling in the sky, coming closer as a wall battalion of Sentinels marching just under the dark shade of the front. Sudden flickers of light, bouncing off of the battalion could be seen. Fury could only guess that it was the faint reflective shimmer of their armor, but as she got a closer look, their armor was in fact, their chassis.

The sounds of clomping feet, moving as one was more audible now, feeling the ground beneath them tremor from the heavy, hydraulic hooves of the Sentinels. Their components were not typical of Demons, rather more like cybernetic organism with moving, fluid parts made of razor steel. While one arm carried a fusion canon attachment, the other arm was free, with long, four razor sharp, massive digits that resembled a four-piece claw. Their heads were layered in metal plates, with two horns on each side of their crown and tusks protruding from what one could only guess was a mouth, which was partially hidden under a faceplate. Underneath the cowl of sharp steel was two beady, glowing red eyes, more menacing than that of the Hell Knights. Their size and appearance alone would cause one's spine to shiver at the contortions of the massive brutes of steel. _Damn…if their armor is just as resilient as that of the Hell Knights, then we're in trouble._

Strife frowned underneath his faceplate, knowing that he was at a disadvantage without Conquest at his fullest potential. He didn't want to put Conquest at risk in his present condition.

"Standing around and fretting is not the better solution," Strife added as the group stared out in disbelief.

"I must concur with the Horseman. If we do not act now, our chances of surviving this will lessen greatly," Haamiah agreed.

"If dere's any chance left at all," Ulthane groaned, "…face it boyos; we bumbled this up. Dere's no advantage at taking them beasties full on."

"So what shall we do now?" Fury growled as her piercing gaze stuck a cord in the men standing around her. _What shall we do now?_

* * *

"Hurry War…they may already have found the others?" Plague panted.

War followed close behind, meandering through the sparse woods as fast as his feet could carry him. Although Ruin could move much faster than he, the thick trees of the forest would have made it difficult for Ruin to navigate. Therefore, War had to move on Plague's terms, whom was also more faster on foot than War.

"Damnit Plague, slow down," War grumbled, trying to meander around the brush.

"You're going to have to pick up the pace, m'lord," Plague insisted.

"Then take us out into the open rather than this obnoxious detour!"

"We can't. The Dark Lord's Hell hounds are on the loose, seeking anything in the open that they can snare…and judging by how fast you can run, it wouldn't take them much to catch up," Plague tried to reason without sounding condescending.

"Are you implying that I, the Horseman War am slow?"

"…like a goose on land," Plague said without mincing words.

_Ass._

Coming out slightly into a sparser thicket of slender trees, an echoing humming could be heard on the breeze, rustling through the branches. War's ears perked to the new noise, a sound he had never heard before.

"M'lord, hurry…don't stop," Plague yelled more frantically than before.

The serene sounds of voices filtered in and out from out of nowhere and everywhere. War had never heard anything so tantalizing, but was bemused as to why he felt compelled to listen. Straining to hear it closely was slowing him down even more, breaking his focus as the sounds became even more audible.

"War, do not listen to the voices, can you hear me?" Plague insisted again, but Plague's grinding voice was being buffered out from the humming and howling.

"War…don't give in to them…_please…"_

…but Plague's pleading was weaning out. War could only find comfort in the voices wooing him into their confidence…_but the confidence of what? _He couldn't see anyone or anything, other than the wind whistling between the leaves of the trees.

Without warning the forest closed itself in. Branches and thick ivy vines moved rapidly to entwine one over other, enclosing a foliage wall between Plague and War.

"WAR…" Plague's voice choked over the dense wall of vines as they clenched together, crippling all contact between the two. War was in a trance, oblivious to the movements of his surroundings as the source of the voices came closer…and closer.

Emerging from the darkness of the thicket, a long, slender figure with soft, glowing red eyes, made its presence known. The gray-blue scales that made up the she-demon's callous hide, encased the voluptuous, feminine form, moving in fluidity as she pranced on digitigrades for legs.

"_You cannot resist us, Horseman…" _she sneered in a soft, serene voice.

On the other side of the wall, Plague clawed at the wall with its taloned digits, trying to rip a hole into it, but the vines stiffened, thickening the wall of its bodies with compact patches of bark. Plague ceased trying to rip at the wall as its maimed shoulder began to throb.

"Confound you stubborn weeds…" Plague mocked. Within moments the spores from Plague's hardened shell began to sparse, spreading into the air around Plague and forming along the wall of vines.

"You _WILL_ let me pass!"

On the other side of the wall, the Succubus brushed her hand along the side of War's face as he laid on his back in a daze, succumbed to her wares.

"Your seed will be an excellent addition to my Lord's army…" she cooed, straddling him with her long, lanky legs, arching her back as she started to dry-hump along his groin. She moaned, biting her lip as she ran her taloned hands down his armored chest to his belt, still strapped and snug over his waist.

"What…are you…doing…?" War groaned, the glisten in his eyes beginning to waiver.

"You want this, Horseman…to feel a grotto of ecstasy wrapped around your instrument," she moaned, unhinging his belt as the forest foliage on the ground held him down. If he was to get up, the vines would chasten him back down, hindering his escape, but for the moment, the serene sounds coming from the Succubus' song kept him in bondage.

"No…" he cringed as he arched his back, struggling against the vines that held him down, but as she ran her gaped lips down the side of his exposed face and jaw, dampening it with her forked tongue, War let out a gasp, subliminally surrendering to the tantalizing sensation coming from the contact of her tongue gliding along his skin; _ahhhhhh._

Enticing his more subliminal senses, the Succubus continued to graze her hands along his pectorals, admiring the vigor in his build before her hands reached his lower abdomen, just above the cloth that rested over his groin.

_"Umm_…and what is this?" she moaned as she continued to molest him, widening the gap between the inside of his thighs with her hands before they meandered to his crotch.

Suddenly, a series of creaking, like the breaking and snapping of tree trunks could be heard in the near distance as the Succubus whipped her head around to the commotion coming from what was left of her _impervious_ wall. As the branches began to rot, the wood splintered into shards, falling without effort. Plague managed to mow down the Succubus' cage, tearing through the thicket before finally making into the Succubus' erected chamber.

"Elemental _fool…" _the she-demon hissed at Plague with her long, forked tongue.

"Get off of him, demon harlot…" Plague growled before leaping onto the Succubus, thrusting her off of War, whom was still lying on the ground, inebriated.

The Succubus shoved Plague off of her as she whipped around with her taloned tail, poised and ready to strike. Plague rolled onto all fours, prostrated to the ground with its glowing, green eyes fixed on the female Demon. The Succubus gnashed at Plague with her jagged teeth, hissing at the prostrated Elemental while scratching the ground beneath her with her massive hoof.

"I will accomplish were my brothers have failed…" the Succubus sneered.

Without notice, the Succubus suddenly felt something pierce into her back, feeling her insides thrust in her gut as the point of a sword tore through her belly. The contortions of her innards stirred from the sudden entry of Chaoseater, whom was simmering along the grain of the massive blade. The Succubus could be heard gurgling on her own forked tongue as her tail whipped frantically at the sword still impaled in her gut. As her body began to lax, her arms and head drooped while the light in her glowing eyes began to fade, until it diminished completely.

With exertion, War pulled his sword out from the Succubus' back, pushing her off with his foot as she tumbled to the ground, her flaccid, taloned limbs flaying as she rolled. War knelt down in exhaustion, barely holding himself up with Choaseater, standing upright with its point nestled into the loose soil. Plague relaxed, carefully lifting back up onto two legs while clutching its right side with its thorny hands.

War took a few deep breaths before pulling himself up onto his feet, trying to relieve himself of the acetylcholine still pulsing in his system. Despite the Succubus' attempt to seduce him, War managed to pull himself from the bonds of his own chemistry. Yanking Chaoseater from the ground, he threw the massive sword over his shoulder and limped over to the Succubus, still lying comatose on the ground, unmoving. Coming closer to the wicked, female Demon, he could finally see her in her true form, a contrast to the sweet, succulent voice that she whispered into his ears. His head was still spinning, recovering from the venom of bliss she put into his head. He was shaking profusely, his hands trembling as his pupils glistened; he was finally able to see past the veil she placed over his eyes. _I will not be fooled again,_ he sneered to himself as he swung Chaoseater off his shoulder, holding it now with both hands so he could bring it down over the Demon's neck, finally severing her head from her scaly, voluptuous body.

The horned, tendril head rocked slightly, shortly after it detached from her body, her eyes now black and her skin fractured like glass. Lifting the sword from where he severed her neck, War knelt back down, catching his breath as the Succubus' venom finally withered away, his head now coming into the clear as he lifted it up, scanning the area for Plague.

In the near distance, he could see Plague still standing, swaying slightly while still clutching it's side, it's green eyes beaming like head beams in the dark.

"Plague?" War wheezed out, trying to bring himself up back onto his feet.

"Do not worry m'lord…tis just a graze."

"…but will you not get infected?" War questioned.

"Come now, Horseman…" Plague grumbled in a rhetorical tone.

War grumbled as he nodded, realizing that Plague was in the literal sense, well, Plague.

"Still…you're not as invulnerable as you claim to be, Elemental."

"I never implied that I did, m'lord," Plague patiently responded, despite the stinging gash just under its ribcage.

Bringing his sword into his sheath, War walked over to Plague, still wobbly but stable enough to walk without tipping over under the weight of his armaments.

"Show me your wound, Plague…and that's not a request," he ordered, his eyes sternly glaring at Plague's menacing façade. He stood erect directly in front of Plague, towering the Elemental by nearly a foot. Plague let out a sigh, realizing that to protest with the Horseman was not going to be productive, and therefore removed its hands to reveal a bloody mass, encrusted around the crack in its organic plated armor.

Bending over, War gazed at the wound, seeing the delicate, supple human tissue that it was, scabbing over with a crimson crust. It was swollen, but not from infection, just an excess of blood in the process of clotting the gash.

"Is it to your satisfaction, m'lord?" Plague sighed.

War grumbled for a moment, realizing there really wasn't anything to be alarmed about, but lifted himself up anyway, concluding his inspection.

"You're no good to me injured, or otherwise, Plague," War made a point to remind Plague, rolling his shoulders to loosen his joints again, still somewhat strained from the events as of late, "…we must hurry, before something else delays us."

"Agreed," Plague responded, carefully kneeling down onto all fours, limping along as Plague steadily picked up speed, meandering the trees with more ease the further it went. War followed shortly behind, keeping a better pace with Plague this time, not wanting to deviate too far from the Elemental. _I hope the others are doing better than we are, _War could only hope, frustrated with fate as he moved, more intensely now, racing against time.

* * *

_This chapter took some time to edit and re-edit as I was in debate as to how to compose this piece without making it too complex or over-drawn out. Anyhoot, feedback is welcome._

_Next Segment: Will War and Plague reach the others in time, before they fall before to the Demon Lord's unnaturally bred army of hybrid minions? Will Death find enough witnesses in time to overturn War's conviction?_


	18. Chapter 17 Alliances

**Chapter 17: Alliances**

Meandering along of what was once the Tigris river, Strife peered toward the empty, barren bank that was once riddled with wild grass and animal life, now a desolate valley of gravel and rocks. With Conquest walking alongside of him, the two lead the caravan of Nephilim and Angels away from the fortress that have fallen to the Dark Lord's army by now.

The night sky provided enough cover so that the ragtag group could elude the legion of Sentinels, an unnaturally bred army of creatures that were distorted with hydraulic extremities. Although their armaments attached to their chassis was superior in firepower, their vision was too tunneled for a more peripheral image, not to mention their lack of speed. But the afterglow of the twilight was just the glimmer of hope the group needed to evade Mephistopheles' ever growing legions of minions; the product of his union with all he could defile with his unholy seed, to produce his offspring of sacrilege and abhorrence.

Although the ground beneath them was dry and cracked, embedded with shards of granite and obsidian, the lack of water didn't deter the flies. Conquest was shaking his head, averting the buggers that were buzzing in his ears, huffing out of annoyance. Ulthane did the same, swiping at the insects the moment he felt them graze his face.

"_Bah, _little bastards. Ya couldn't have picked a better path?" he groaned.

Strife could only sigh, being the only one whom was not succumbed to the annoying insects because of his faceplate. He came to a stop the moment he could hear Fury gripe while her horse, Desolate was whipping his bob-cut tail fervently, keeping the buggers away from his rump.

"I'm inclined to agree. These things are not going to stop unless we detour," she added in exasperation, swatting at the elusive, buzzing insects that flew around her head.

Haamiah walked along with the group this time, keeping he and his fellow guardsmen profile low under the veil of the night sky. Even they were having a time with the obnoxious bugs, shaking their wings to keep the flies from crawling in their feathers.

Sariel kept a close distance along with his commander, peering through the darkness with his pale eyes. The Angels eyes were not inclined to darkness since their pupils were designed to absorb the abundant illumination of Heaven's terrains, and not the murky, dim hollows of Hell that the Demons were accustomed to. It was in these times the Swords of Eden were out of their element, and the group of five knew it. Trying to keep a wary eye was futile at this point so they relied on their ears, but the obnoxious buzzing coming from the flies was impairing their ability to listen for danger.

After trekking a few more kilometers, Haamiah had finally had enough as he leapt up into the air to glide over Fury and Ulthane and land near Strife.

"Horseman…we must get away from the river bank," he urgently requested.

"This bank is the reason we haven't come across any of nocturnal beasts that come out to feed…not to mention any of the Dark Lord's scouts or Hell hounds," Strife patiently replied.

"We are limited here, Horseman! We cannot see or hear when, in the event of oncoming danger…"

"Then where do you suggest we go, Cherub? If we trek along the crest, we may be spotted by the wild beasts, but if we travel onto the surface, we my come across the Dark Lord's minions."

"The wild beasts and renegade Demons we can handle Horseman…"

"…but what of Conquest? He cannot withstand another attack until he is properly remedied!"

"Then let us deal with them so you can stay with your steed."

"I'm not inclined to take that risk, Cherub!"

Moving Desolate to the front alongside with Haamiah, Fury interrupted,

"We must change our strategy Strife. We can't stay here all night!"

"…and why is that, Fury?" Strife snapped back, astounded that his fellow Horsewoman would actually side with the Angel.

"These flies are impeding our ability to foresee anything coming at us. I would much rather know what is coming than hiding, hoping not to be found!"

"As you can see, we are not in the best of conditions for another battle, Fury," Strife rebutted.

Suddenly Conquest neighed before coming to a full stop, planting his massive hooves into the ground. Snorting in between huffs with his ears erect and his eyes glimmering, his body stood poised in a defensive stance. Conquests' sudden change in demeanor alerted Strife that something was amiss. The others too stopped, keeping quiet as they too tried to tune in to whatever may be nearby. Desolate halted abruptly, his front hooves straddled and his head erect, sniffing the scent in the air.

Haamiah gently removed the sword from his sheath with his poise girdled into a fighting stance, peering through the dark void as best as he could. Folding his wings more tightly to his back, he rolled his shoulders, holding his sword forward. Looking up over the others, Ulthane's ears twitched to the subtle sounds that surrounded them, listening carefully, tuning out the buzzing flies. Sariel too was on guard with a staff in one hand and a plasma shield in the other. The others branded their weapons, folding their wings tightly to ready themselves in the event they were to go into combat.

Only the chirping of the smaller nocturnal insects could be heard, mingled with the occasional gentle breeze that would stir up the sand. All was black around them, with the ground directly beneath their feet was the only thing they could even remotely see somewhat clearly.

Ulthane moved turned his head, sniffing the the air as an unfamiliar scent crossed his nostrils.

"Well…does anyone else smell dat or is it just me?" he grumbled.

"Smell what?" Fury growled.

"It smells like metal…like an alloy I've never smelled before…"

"Ulthane, this is no time to be reminiscing of home," Strife chastised.

"I'm serious, it smells like a bloody metal ore…"

Within moments, the others picked up the sound of a faint tapping, as if something small was moving along the gravel, taking minute footsteps.

"Ok, now I agree with the Blacksmith. Something wicked comes this way," Haamiah snorted, holding his weapon more firmly now.

Within visible distance, little pinprick lights could be seen like a cluster of fireflies, but they didn't move like flies. The sounds were more audible now, resembling light hydraulic appendages, moving at an even pace along the rocky ground. Like multiple little pins grazing the gravel below, it sounded as if it was more than one moving, closing in on the group as they peered through the darkness.

Suddenly Desolate began to neigh obnoxiously, pounding his front hooves into the gravel, stirring up the dust. Fury held onto him, feeling his back stiffen and the cropped hairs on his mane rise.

"Something is among us," Fury bellowed.

Within moments, the group could see a multitude of glowing, beady eyes peering through the black void as their movements jostled up and down, until the pale light coming from the Hellguard staff in Haamiah's hand revealed their metal chassis.

"Mites!" he yelled, plunging his staff into the ground and then swept it across as if he was brushing the ground with a broom. Little metallic bodies of what he called "Mites" were flung into the air, thrown onto their backs with their legs jittering in the air.

"Quick, keep them back!" Haamiah yelled out again.

"What are these things?" Strife growled as he kicked one coming close by, shooting others with Mercy.

"Walking tin-cans with six legs," Ulthane jeered, dropping his Black Hammer onto a cluster of them, crushing them like aluminum cans, _"…__hehe,_ don't take much to squash da little bastards!"

"What they lack in durability, they make up in numbers, Old One," Haamiah reminded Ulthane, still sweeping his staff, brushing the mites away as a sea of glowing beady eyes could be seen all around them.

"_Damnit_, how many are there of these things?" Fury snarled, cracking her whip while Desolate stomped on an advancing Mite, using his back hooves to kick away the others.

"Hundreds…maybe thousands. We must keep them back!" Haamiah yelled out.

"Why should we fear dese pesky little _cretins?__"_ Ulthane mocked as he swung his massive Hammer, knocking a cluster of Mites into the air.

"They're called Mites, and they're armed with a mercury-liquid based substance in their mandibles, which is poisonous by the way," Hammiah sneered, still sweeping with his staff.

"Why are they out here?" Strife asked.

"They're designed to prepare the Earth for the Dark Lord's arrival. They will restructure the Earth's physical blueprint in favor of the Dark Lord's new matrix," Haamiah answered.

"In other words, they're here to renovate…" Strife reiterated.

"Precisely!"

"Den dat means dat the Dark Lord is preparing for his debut; an arrogant bastard he is!" Ulthane grumbled, "…and I bet he'll tear down everytin' we've built!"

"That was his intention all along. All of the Destroyers' dominions, the last of the standing human cities, all of what is left of the Earth's inhabitants will fall to Mephistopheles province and laws."

"Why should we worry what happens to this world? It is already fallen to Hell's cronies; why should we worry about what the Dark Lord does with them?" Fury sneered.

"Do you really think the Dark Lord is going to stop there?" Haamiah responded. His words resonated amongst the group as they refocused they're concentration on the ever-so- perseverant Mites, coming at them in droves. Despite pushing many away, more would come into their place, moving along with their slender hydraulic legs and their eyes glistening from their steel chassis.

"He is right," Strife blurted out in the middle of the skirmish.

"Say _what?__" _said Fury.

"The Cherub is right."

"Are you serious?" she sneered, kicking the Mites away from her infinitesimal space.

"Look around you…this world is too perfect of a resource; the resource Mephistopheles needs to expand his empire. Death was right."

"Are we seriously having this discussion, _right __now?__" _Fury growled, "…and besides, Samael would not permit the Dark Lord to rein over Hell, nor the Earth…"

"Samael's forces are too weak to stop the Dark Lord's dominion on both the Earth and Hell. The Destroyer set the stage too perfect for Mephistopheles to ignore."

"I hate at be interuptin' your little quarrel, but we got troubles here," Ulthane interrupted, watching whatever area he may have had left was starting to enclose by the moving little hydraulic bodies closing in all around them.

"Sariel…take flight!" Haamiah yelled over the noise of the oncoming multitudes of Mites.

"I will not leave you behind, sire..." Sariel protested.

"If you do not, there will be nothing left to leave behind. Go, now!"

Sariel was hesitant as he watched the others working diligently pushing the legions of Mites back. Lifting up his glowing staff, he noticed the light gleaming off of the bodies of the masses of Mites, all moving towards them.

"Go Sariel, before it's too late!"

Without further delay, Sariel released his massive spotted wings and leapt up into the air as the breeze lifted him up, pushing against his feathered strands. Rising above the others as the air carried him further, lifting him above the riverbank and then over the terrain, he spotted the legions of Mites moving along the bank shelf. _There__'__s __too __many __of __them__…__damn._

Without further delay, Sariel was out of sight in the darkness of the sky while the others continued to push the scuttling Mites back, amassing a heap of metal shards and legs around them.

"Use the debris to build up a barricade," Strife yelled to the others.

"That will not stop them," Haamiah responded.

"…but it may give us some more time," Strife yelled back.

Without arguing further, Haamiah took to Strife's advice and began sweeping the cluster of metal debris into a heap; _what __other __options __do __we __have __left?_

The others followed suit, barricading themselves in using the dismantled bodies of the Mites and jagged rocks. The four Angels, three Nephilims, and two steeds then braced themselves as they readied their weapons, pitting their backs to one another and waiting for the Mites to eventually climb over the barricade, hoping that Sariel will find aid soon before they get buried under the Dark Lord's renovation crew.

* * *

Trotting along a rocky path, littered with automobile carcasses, feral weeds, and thistles, Death rode his pale steed, clopping along the gravel road while meandering the scattered metal debris of human transport vehicles.

As far as the eye could see, the road was illuminated with torches under the veil of the night sky. The nocturnal insects fed off of the light coming from the flames of the six foot torches, burning brightly, which suggested they were originally placed by Hell's minions to ward off the Elementals, whom were just as much of threat to them as they were to the Nephilim. _If __they__'__d __only __band __together, __they __may __be __able __to __hold __back __the __Dark __Lord__'__s __minions,_ but like the humans, they were too fickle and unpredictable.

Although company with Elemental Pele was somewhat sobering, she kept a comfortable distance between her and the Horseman. With the events of late, Death kept his head lowered, knowing that time was no longer his ally. Contingencies ran fervently in his head before he looked up to peer forward, noticing the dimming hues over the horizon ahead. _It__'__s __almost __morning__…_

"You are not alone in this fight Horseman. There are those among us that still desire the will of the Creator," Pele tried to beguile the Horseman and yet she couldn't help but to fall silent, wondering if her efforts were fruitless now. She too understood the sting of betrayal, and it was a bitter liquor to swallow.

"And Calamity does not?" Death asked in poise.

"Calamity desires to save what is left of this world, but he has chosen his alliances poorly."

"…and Tempest condones his decision?" Death asked.

"She is loyal to him…too loyal perhaps…but their union has a great influence over the multitudes, so their merger has been the ideal league for many years."

"What of you?"

"I want to save the Earth just as much as they do, but not at the expense of consoling with Demons."

"So that is how Calamity intends to save the Earth? In coalition with Hell's aid?"

"He believes that we, as a whole are too weak against Mephistopheles…"

"Would he be right?"

"Yes. I too agree that the Elementals are vastly divided, and therefore our remaining forces are insufficient against the Dark Lord's armies. After watching the events unfold that fateful day when War fell to Straga, Calamity had lost faith in the Council and the Four…and although some of Hell's forces are at odds with those of the Dark Lord's, I also see no gain in merging with them."

"Whose forces are against the Dark Lord's?"

"Samael being one. He hates Mephistopheles, almost as much as he hated the Destroyer…"

"…but Samael has not summoned any reliable resistance against the Dark Lord."

"…and nor will he. He would gain nothing if he did."

Coming to realization, Death was beginning to see all the schemes intertwining into one; _Samael __is __biding __his __time, __just __as __Mephistopheles __did. __Does __he __have __faith __that __the F__our __will __resolve __this __situation __for __him...or __does __his __prize __lie __elsewhere? What does he know that we don't?_

"Samael is waiting for something," Death grumbled.

"Yes he is…but for what, I do not know. That answer has long eluded me, so I have had nothing to back up my case against Calamity's mandate. One thing is for certain that I do know…"

"And what is that?"

"I am not the only one who oppose Calamity's decision."

Pele's words resonated in his head, finding solace once again knowing that he wasn't alone in his mission, but would it be enough to build up a defense in War's case is still uncertain.

Continuing to remain mute, Death gazed ahead. Radiating over the rolling hills and broken trees, Death noticed something odd, coming over the magenta sky as the sun barely peeked over the morning haze that hovered over the fields ahead. _Well __I__'__ll __be __damned._

Moving his steed towards the crooked hill ahead, with several tombstones slanted on one side, the two meandered through the graveyard of automobiles, hopping over their rusted, metal chassis and eroding strips of rubber debris, scattered along the overgrown terrain.

Pele stood baffled for a moment, curious as to what aroused the Horseman's interest.

"Horseman?" she called out to him.

"I am fine, Elemental," Death reassured her as he lifted his finger, pointing forwards, "…see over there…in the hills, over yonder?"

Pele was still confused as to what the Horseman was alluding to.

"Forgive me Horseman, for I fail to see that which you summon."

Just as they approached the base of the awkward hill, Death lifted the Harvester, yelling out,

"Gatekeeper…hear me!"

Pele remained mute, curious as to whom the Horseman was attempting to beckon. All was quiet for a moment, waiting and watching, hoping for whom he spoke of to respond. His steed stood idle for a moment, his frayed ears folded back while a soft-glowing haze seeped from his folded in nostrils, revealing his naval cavity. The lids over his soft glowing eyes suddenly opened wide, subtly swaying his head as Death felt the tension around his steeds' scapula; _he __senses __something. _Pele also noticed the steed's antsy demeanor, shifting his ears backwards while his hairless, bony tail swung to the side.

As the three braced themselves, the land around them rumbled, causing the ground beneath them to shimmy. Death's steed slowly began to move back from the foot of the hill as it shook, slowly lifting from the gravel that encased it. Watching the hill rise before them, both Death and Pele looked up to see a pair of massive old eyes open to gaze at them. Under the falling dirt and rocky crust, Death could see the old façade of the Gatekeeper, peering past the dirt haze as the massive Gatekeeper stood on his two enormous legs, encased in granite and cobblestone. As he stood upright, he slowly looked down at the Horseman and his steed, so infinitesimal compared to that of the Gatekeepers' size that towered above everything around them. Tired and weary, the Gatekeeper let out a low, grumbling sigh as dust hovered around him, slumping his shoulders as if he was knelt down to his newly summoned company.

"Who calls for me?" he asked slowly as the ground around them shook with each articulation coming from the Gatekeepers mouth.

"I am the one whom called you, Old One. I seek your audience if it would please you to do so," Death responded with nuance. Pele stood behind Death, gazing in awe at the old creature. Although she had heard of the Gatekeepers, she had never actually seen one, much less converse with one.

With his eyes glistening in interest, the Gatekeeper lifted his head, astonished at the Horseman's response.

"You flatter me with prose, Horseman…" the Gatekeeper responded with care, the tone in his low, grinding voice now at ease, "…by what means do you seek my audience?"

"War has freed your kinsmen from the Destroyer, but a new threat is coming to enslave all that dwell here, including what is left of your brethren, Gatekeeper."

"This is no new news to us, Horseman. We have known that another was waiting in the wings of opportunity when the one called War would remedy the Destroyers' dominion."

"Then would thou be willing to aid me, Gatekeeper?"

"We are not a an army that can be summoned at a whim, Horseman."

"Forgive me for my lack of hindsight, Old One, but whatever time I had available to me has been misspent by another at my cost, and I am now at your service, Gatekeeper."

"The Four are the Council's enforcers. Surely Horseman, you have much authority, as the Council saw fit…"

"But War remains under the scrutiny of the Council under a false pretense, which I intend to bring to court so that War may be proven innocent and released from these fabricated accusations."

The Gatekeeper shifted his body slightly, lifting his arm slowly as he leaned to one side, reaching down to pull up a boulder that lay nestled next to him. The words of Death resonated in the air around them, as both Death and Pele could feel his illuminated ogling. Bringing the boulder to his colossal mouth, the Gatekeeper took a bite as if he was sinking into an apple. As Pele watched in amazement in the presence of such a creature, she moved out from under the Horseman's shadow and approached the Gatekeeper carefully, picking her timing with care as she began to speak.

"In your wisdom Gatekeeper, would it be plausible to grant us access to the Marrows?"

Turning his gaze to the female Elemental whose hair was dark and skin a light bronze, the Gatekeeper eyes marveled at the her valor.

"You seek to salvage this world, Elemental?" the Old One asked.

"It is all that we have left, Gatekeeper. Surely you know what it is like to lose a home, and that you would have done anything to protect it, and all it's inhabitants."

The Gatekeepers' gaze was solemn, feeling the weight of Pele's suggestion as he lowered the boulder he just had taken a bite out of. His eyes drifted from the ground and into the sky, letting out a melancholy sigh.

Pele continued,

"I beg of you Gatekeeper, let us exploit this chance to save this world, so we may never look back in regret. I ask that you find solace in my request, Old One."

The Gatekeepers' gaze meandered back to that of the Firewoman, her eyes glistening under the illumination of his, her demeanor soft and oddly humble. Death remained seated in his steed, feeling the genuine exchange between the two more than what he had even would have remotely have bargained for. _So __how __will __this __play __out __now?_

In the near distance, the subtle voice of his long-time companion could be heard steadily like a gentle, passing wind.

_The __others __are __pressed __for __time__…_Death could hear him say, _…__and __she __patiently __awaits __your __answer._ The Raven flapped his wings over the terrain, gliding on the breeze as he hovered above them.

_So __it __is __time_…Death reminisced, _…__very __well __then. __I __will __arrive __at __the __appointed __time, __as __planned. __Until __then, continue to __follow __them._

…and then the Raven flew away.

* * *

_I would like to take a moment to thank my readers for the feedback and input. It is most appreciated._

_I have been also going back to the other chapters to re-edit and address errors so as always, feedback, input, or corrections is welcome._


	19. Chapter 18 Turning The Tide

_Trying to ward off legions of mites under the darkness of night as they wait on a shimmer of hope, the Swords of Eden and the Nephilim are left to their concluded demise the following morning._

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Turning Tide**

_Let's walk through the fire together, and disappear in the golden sands._

_It's all in your face, I see you break,_

_It's like the sound of winter._

_The bleeding love, the silent escape, you've got to hang on to yourself._

_~Bush~_

The afterglow coming from the early morning sun still under the filter of the low cascading haze, glistened lightly just above the river bank. The air was cool and crisp to the senses, keeping the dense clouds low, hovering a few feet above the gravel ground while the river bed remained in the shadows below the crest of the bank.

Cluttered within the river bank were remnants of the mechanical mites, broken and pillaged, layered into heaps as the Swords of Eden continued to sweep them away, keeping them back as more continued to relentlessly close in. The Angels were fatigued, nearly exhausting the last of their energy staffs. The light coming from their weapons was fading from overuse while Strife has resorted to kicking the things away, after nearly depleting Mercy of ammunition. Fury had long dismounted from Desolate, trying to build a barrier around Conquest, whom was still weak and rigid from earlier wounds while Ulthane continued to swing with his Hammer, but the tension from using it all night was taking a toll on his swing.

Feeling a pain shoot down his shoulder, he bellowed,

"Damnit, is dere an end to dese tings'?"

They were already surrounded by heaps of shredded mites, their steel carcasses beginning to glisten under the rising sun just barely above the horizon.

"I don't suppose these things are nocturnal…" Strife asked in a tired, course tone.

"Of that, I am not sure," Haamiah answered honestly. Although he could only recall seeing them in darkness, their beady, glowing eyes giving them away in the dead of the night, he couldn't confirm for sure if they were strictly nocturnal.

Feeling the weight of the sun rays now hitting the base of the crest, the mites began to scatter aimlessly, scuttling around the established barrier the group of five had erected all during the night. Although the mites did not cease in moving, they did change in random directions, almost instantly the moment the sun peered through the morning haze.

Feeling the last of their energy spent, the group ceased to swinging their arsenal, finding a break after battling the little mites all night without rest.

"Look…they're not advancing…" one of the Cherubs announced.

"Yea, but dere not retreatin' either," Ulthane grumbled, noticing that the mites were merely roaming in different directions, and not necessarily evading them, "…perhaps dey're sensitive to the light."

"Of course! Their eyes are designed to work in the darkness. The sun is too bright for them to see clearly," Haamiah analyzed.

Suddenly, the sound of crushing metal could be heard in the near distance, followed with a growling bellow as pieces of mites flew into the air and over their makeshift refuge.

"Ok, now who, or _what _was that?" Fury snapped, holding her whip tightly in her hand.

_"Uh oh,_ it's _him,"_ Strife groaned at the familiar bellowing he could hear nearby.

Haamiah leapt into the air, his wings released from confinement as they spread to catch the breeze moving through the air, lifting him above the river bank. Coming above the crest, he could see the Elemental Pandemonium, swinging his flail, Affliction, and crushing the blinded mites without exertion.

"Hellion bastards, go home," he bellowed out, "…and take your mechanical, tinker-toys with ya!"

Pulling in Affliction by its' massive chain, he swept hordes of mites at a time, flailing them under the heavy weight of Afflictions' force. Mites flew apart like autumn leaves, their pieces scattered all around the vicinity. Pandemonium chuckled with each swing, watching the mites scuttle away in amusement.

"That's right…go back to Hell and rot with the rest of those, horned heathens," he could be heard hollering.

Haamiah landed not too far from Pandemonium's space, sensing the Elemental's hypnotic rage, blistering in the back of his head; _something has him in a frenzy._

"Elemental, why do you flock here?" Haamiah asked the intimidating Elemental. Pandemonium gradually turned around, as if Haamiah was really not of his concern. The large man lowered Affliction to his side so he could remove his massive horned helmet, revealing a hardened face with disheveled blonde hair, his red eyes glistening with spite, but not for the Angel.

"Go back to Heaven, Cherub. You cannot save this world," Pandemonium sneered, not the least bit delighted with Haamiah's company but not intimidated by it either.

"But neither can you Elemental, despite your efforts," Haamiah responded back, trying to get Pandemonium to see reason. Pandemonium's expression drooped into a frown, revealing the valleys of laughter lines that once glowed with zeal, but now is hardened like stone and unsentimental.

The others managed to pull themselves onto the bank after climbing over the mangled bodies of mites. Reaching the top, they could see Haamniah standing at a comfortable distance from the massive Elemental, Pandemonium. Fury is quick to flinch her wrist, ready to crack her whip at a whim before Strife grabbed her arm to hold her back.

"Easy Fury…let's see where this goes."

"Are you mad, Strife? This bastard Elemental tried to tear us into two the last time we were confronted by him!" she snapped. Pandemonium took notice of the Horseman and the other Angels, but did not react. He just continued to wrap up the chain to his flail with ease.

The Elemental stood tall and bulky, his bare biceps glistening from the sweat that showered from his pores. Pandemonium's steel chest plate was embellished with pictorials of human skeletons, branding armaments, battling a ten-horned dragon. In appearance and craft, he was everything that havoc stood for, but as of now, he seemed depleted, jaded, and weary of Hell's dominion; more so than that of Heaven's.

"We are of no concern to you, Angel. You're time here has long expired," Pandemonium grumbled, his red eyes waning under the light of the morning sun. His mood was solemn as he gently gathered Affliction and wrapped the chain around his gauntlet.

"So you do seek to save the Earth, Elemental?"

Pandemonium looked up at the weary, but perseverant Angel, still at a loss as to why this Angel would even care.

"That I do…not that it is any business of yours," the Elemental sneered, slowly rolling up the chain to his flail up and over his shoulder.

"On the contrary Elemental, I come to aid the Four for the sake of your world. They will need to unite if there is any hope of success of dethroning the Demon Lord…"

"Since when did Heaven ever give a damn about what happens to men?" the Elemental suddenly sneered, clenching his jaw as his rigid teeth showed through his condescending smile. A sudden spark of apprehension shivered down Haamiah's spine, Pandemonium's means of instilling fear into his adversaries. The Elemental had a way of stirring the most primal of anxieties in even the most resilient of psyche's. It was a skill that has changed the course of history amongst the Kingdom of men, and it was just as potent then as it is now.

"I do not answer to the Circle of Seraphim, Elemental," Haamiah explained while still retaining his poise, "…we only answer to Azrael."

"So…the Angel of Death still lives?" Pandemonium mused at the revelation.

"He is in captivity, but is alive…"

"Then his servants carry out his mission," the Elemental guessed.

Just out of the blue behind the group, a sudden shrill could be heard from behind the two, echoing along the bed below the river bank,

"Yes…Azrael's will is done."

The two turned to the voice of the Elemental Plague, walking up to them with War and Ruin following close behind. Ulthane's voice could be heard as he finally pulled himself onto the bank,

"Well it's about bloody time ya got back," Ulthane groaned as he cringed, pulling his massive body onto the ledge and stood up on his tired legs, rotating his left shoulder that was still sore from the night before, "…I hope ya enjoyed da scenery while you was out!"

"Believe me when I say, m'lord Ulthane, that the scenery was even more dismal than coming back to find you in this predicament," Plague responded in a sober tone, despite the chilling ambience coming from the Elemental's rasping voice.

Coming to the odd confrontation between Haamiah and Pandemonium, Plague walked up to them with ease, its tendrils flaying as the spores around its armor clung to the porous, organic shell.

"There is no need to contest these travelers, Pandemonium; they are not with the Dark Lord."

Pandemonium's' attention was quickly redirected to Plague, his gaze now transfixed to the hideous Elemental's poise. He wasn't anxious, but attentive as Plague walked up to them with ease.

"If they challenge the Dark Lord and succeed, what says that they won't take his place and rule the Earth?" growled Pandemonium, although his poise was softened now in comparison to earlier.

"The Four are interested in justice, not power," Plague gently responded, "…they are no threat to you, or the others."

"Then perhaps you did not hear as to what happened with the alliance…" Pandemonium revealed.

"By what do you allude to, Pandemonium?" Plague asked.

War and Ruin gently walked over to the others, keeping a safe distance from the two Elementals, conversing under an atmosphere bouncing between foreboding and console. Although they approached Strife and his still standing steed, Conquest, War still kept a wary eye on Plague, standing in the presence of an Elemental who's alliance was still for the most part unknown.

"My brother, use this to mend Conquest," said War, handing a flask to Strife.

"We were concerned that you would not return," Strife admitted.

"There are other threats that are of concern now," War admitted before he redirected his gaze at the Elementals, "…and despite my liberation from the Council's _ball and chain, _I am still a shadow of my former self."

War seldom reminisced the events that followed the day he stood before the Council in contempt, subjected to their whim under the authority of the Watcher, but his recent confrontation with the devious Succubus only made him the more wary of the events to follow, knowing that Mephistopheles'' army was amassing by the days. But because the Council stripped him of his authority, he didn't have the means to combat the Dark Lord's army like he could otherwise. Even with the Abysmal armor and the blade that sheared the Destroyer, these creatures were uncommon compared to that of Hell's usual forte. _Mephistopheles' stratagem will not be the same as the Destroyers'…he is no fool._

Strife opened the flask and brought it to Conquests' mouth for consumption. The massive white steed lapped up the contents in the bottle, feeling his fatigued body beginning to mend almost instantly as the glow that once radiated from his body started to illuminate again in contrast to the lackluster afterglow that glittered faintly from under his hooves. Fury watched next to Desolate in awe as the light in Conquests' eyes began to blaze briskly once again.

"How did you access such a remedy?" Fury demanded, not the least bit trusting in War's Elemental "companion." War turned to his sister, lowering the hood from his crown,

"Does it matter?" War responded patiently to his fellow Horsewoman, "…we have other things that are of more concern."

"So we've heard," Fury sneered back, "…and from the looks of it, the Dark Lord now has the advantage!"

"The advantage yes, but he's not indestructible."

"How can _you_ be so sure? You've spent the remainder of your time running from the Council's decree, how could you possibly know what the Dark Lord is doing?"

"Why would he have taken the time to amass such an army and then send them against all whom dwell here, including us, if we were not such a threat to him? Why go through the effort to make sure all of the Elementals are obliterated?"

"Perhaps he has learned from where the Destroyer has failed…" Fury responded.

"No Fury," War rebutted lowly as he returned his gaze to Plague and Pandemonium, still exchanging words, "…he fears the Elementals, and I'm beginning to see why."

Judging by the exchange, it was clear by now that Pandemonium was not intending to bring harm to the group, but all were still apprehensive about placing trust in the Elementals as a whole.

"Why should we trust in the Four if the Council has declared one of them as expendable?" Pandemonium recited to Plague.

"It is the Four whom will bring the Dark Lord's fall…" Plague insisted, its masked façade glaring at the taller Elemental.

"Not if the Horseman War is condemned…"

"…but he will not, for there are witnesses to prove otherwise," Plague patiently exclaimed.

"How can you be sure?"

"My master will see to that. In the meantime, we must keep the Dark Lord's armies at bay."

"We?"

Pandemonium said, lifting a brow, "…so you seek _my _aid?"

"I seek aid from those whom are willing to save our world…if what you say is true and Calamity has sought console from the Dark Lord's opposing Demons, then an alliance of the remaining faithful is ever more dire."

As a slight smile stretched from the corner of his mouth, Pandemonium placed his helmet back onto his head,

"Then, I am at your service, _Plague," _the Elemental bowed, chuckling as his gaze met with the Nephilim's, watching from a distance.

"I do have something to ask of you as well, Pandemonium," Plague is quick to mention, redirecting Pandemonium's attention away from the Nephilim and Angels.

"…and what would that be?" Pandemonium asked.

"Keep your intellect at bay and refrain yourself."

Pandemonium could feel the weight of the green-eyed glare coming from Plague's ferocious façade, and yet his glare bounced between the hideous Elemental and the group nearby, amused by Plague's insistence of self-discipline.

"Fine. I'll entertain the Nephilim's company…for now," Pandemonium replied as he smirked.

Plague nodded in response before turning around to approach the others, whom have been watching the conversation transpire between the two Elementals.

"Will he aid us?" War asked.

"Yes, for the time being."

"I do not trust that Elemental _dog, _much less you!" Fury growled, holding her whip tightly in her grasp, between her steel, clawed digits.

"Pandemonium will make a useful ally."

"After he tried to detain me for his twisted nuances?" Fury growled in dismay, "…I don't know who is worse, him or the Demons!"

"Believe me when I say he serves a purpose, regardless how unbecoming it may seem," Plague resumed to explain until Fury interrupted,

"…like your own craft is any less maladroit?"

The atmosphere between the two was becoming more callous while the others watched, keeping their places between the Nephilim and the Elemental.

"Indeed, many may not find valor in wielding the hand of pestilence Horsewoman, but it is not for me, or them, to decide…" Plague patiently responded, keeping its' poise calm.

Fury redirected her gaze to War as she continued to protest,

"This is a grossly bad idea! I don't understand why you're going along with this!"

"If you have another alternative that is the better, then please by all means enlighten us, m'lady Nephilim," Plague rebutted, but with ease.

"The Four have never needed any aid from Elemental's…" Fury snapped back.

Suddenly the group is interrupted by a jovial voice,

"…but da four are divided, little Horsewoman," Ulthane backed up Plague, "…until War's judgment is cleared before da Council, you're not in da condition to be takin' on da Demon Lord's unholy army of cretins."

"Death would never have allowed this!"

"Death is limited to the Councils' charge, Fury…" War's voice rose over the others. Walking up to his fellow Horsewoman, he gently held up a mass of hair, wrapped in between his fingers. Fury stood back in shock, glaring at the mass of hair, clumped with rotting flesh and black, stale blood.

"This…" he calmly began, "…this scalp is from a Succubus whom nearly succumbed me into a trance, if it weren't for Plague."

The crowd of Angels and Nephilim stood in awe, ogling the Demon's rotting scalp dangling from War's hand.

"We are outnumbered and outgunned. Their tactics and artillery are vastly different from the other Demons' we have encountered before. We cannot combat them with the same strategy that we have used in the past," War spoke soberly, his glistening eyes solemn, "…Death cannot join us now. If he does, he will be obligated to fulfill the Council's decree and bring me before them. If anything, he is aiding us by keeping himself apart…buying us time before my day in court."

"And you will stand trial?" Strife asked, curious to War's confidence in his fellow Horseman, Death.

"If we have any hope to stop Mephistopheles' army from defiling this world, I will have to."

"Da boy's right…" Ulthane agreed, holding his Hammer over his shoulder, "…there's unfinished business wit dem schemers, but in da meantime, we must rely on da locals to survive this."

Fury grumbled to herself, annoyed at War's decision but she held her tongue as she turned to Desolate. Placing her boot into the stirrup, she hopped up to mount the saddle before taking up the reins.

"Fine…I'll go along with your decision, War…but the moment that Elemental dog looks at me funny, I'll rip his eyes out!"

With that said, Fury turned Desolate and trotted away from the group.

Feeling the antagonistic air around them slightly settle, Plague let out a sigh before extending its taloned hand to the Horseman Strife,

"Will you make a union between us, not for me, the Angels, or the other Elementals, but so that you and your fellow Horsemen may once again be united, and to stop the Demon Lord from encroaching beyond Hell's borders?"

"If it will bring my brothers' innocence to light, then you have my alliance," Strife contended as he exchanged glances with War, watching him nod in approval.

Conquest could be heard neighing gallantly, stomping the ground with his massive, feathery white hooves before shaking his glowing white mane. Strife reached over to pat the massive steed on the muzzle, feeling his vigor once again.

"I am in indebted to you for mending my steed," Strife reiterated, feeling the air rushing from Conquests' nostrils as he huffed.

Ulthane chuckled slightly before placing his massive hand over War's shoulder.

"Well boy, its nice dat we can all somewhat get along…so now what?"

War exchanged glances with Fury from afar until his gaze meandered to Plague, whom was still patiently waiting for War's approval.

"Two weeks have nearly passed," War mumbled lowly, feeling the breeze pass by as it lifted his white locks of hair, "…what shall we do indeed?"

* * *

_Well, I hope y'all in the States enjoy your holiday this Thanksgiving. Thank you for reading._


	20. Chapter 19 A Tranquil Serenade

_Finding a place away from the Dark Lord's forces, the group of Angels and Nephilim find sanctuary for the time being to recoup. The Elemental Plague, however, is confronted by a different conundrum._

* * *

**Chapter 19: A Tranquil Serenade**

The night sky was serene for once with only the noises of the nocturnal insects chirping from a brook nearby. Frogs could be heard croaking near the calm waters while a horned owl cooed from a stem of a lush, oak tree, whose branches extended over the murky waters of the brook.

After the events from the night before, the rest of the day was dull and uneventful, which was a rather welcomed change of pace for the group of wanderers, trying to survive the Dark Lord's nuances. The mites took a lot out of the Angels and Nephilim, so they spent much of the day and into the night, recuperating. Despite the burdensome load of having to put up with one another, the group managed to find a tranquil place near the brook that sat snuggly between two river banks that was once heirlooms of the long lost Garden of Eden.

Now, the banks are the last remnants of such a place, forever displaced by the schemes of men as the rivers lay to waist, until the Elementals made the most of the barren land and filled it with life. In its place were the tranquil brook and the glutton oak and willow trees, soaking up its contents. Small animals found refuge there as well, feeding on the soft, velvet grass and falling acorns.

Nearby, a small campfire continued to burn as the group huddled here and there, keeping the spaces between them conservative. The Angels conjugated on one side, the Nephilim on the other, while Ulthane sat in between, polishing his massive hammer with a soft cloth he kept in a leg pack. The Elementals however, were worlds apart, nowhere to be seen but not disruptive to the others either.

Haamiah sat underneath an old tree, stretching his frayed wings while another of the Cherubs was picking the stickers out of the tattered feathers. The Angels spent most of the evening maintaining their battle worn wings, picking the debris that was caught in the fibers without bending the stems. Ulthane was on the opposite side, watching the Angels tend to their ailments, finding the "grooming" just as amusing.

"I always wondered how ya pigeons kept yer feathers clean…" Ulthane pondered out loud, regardless how crude it came to that of the ears of the Heaven-sent.

Without delay, one of the Angels held out an ornate comb with soft but sturdy bristles that resembled calcified baleen from a large, krill feeding whale.

"This is a specialized tool we use to pick out the debris from the barbs…" he explained and then resumed to brushing it along Haamiah's wing.

The Cherub continued to brush along the remiges, the long stiff asymmetrical shaped feathers of the wing. For the most part, Haamiah was tranquil, feeling the long, bone-smooth barb of the brush, graze along the manus of the wing.

The Angels had taken off their armor to air-out, after spending almost three weeks in them without break. Ulthane was quick to notice their glowing, ivory skin, glistening under the faint light coming from the campfire, revealing every nick and scar they had accumulated over the centuries, maybe even longer. Their hair was light and fair, which was atypical for any Angel he had ever seen, but their wings were "spotty," like that of hawks or falcons, and not pristine white like the ones he had seen before. The "Swords of Eden" were not "typical" next to the Council of Seraphim's' Elite guard and that of what remained of Abbadon's army.

Haamiah was even more unconventional, with blue pupils in his eyes instead of gold, and his musculature was slender in build in comparison to that of the Hellguard's cream of the crop, with the exception of the musculature in the clavicle and scapula, designed and conditioned specifically to wield the massive wings. As Ulthane pondered to himself, he noticed that all of them were conditioned differently than that of the Hellguard's; _dey're not trained ta fight the Demons…dey were meant fer something else._ They're combat ability however was not lacking as they have demonstrated in past few days.

Fury on the other hand laid mute, with Desolate sitting next to her, succumbed to the moment of rest. Conquest remained standing, his head hovering above Strife, whom was busy cleaning Mercy with a bore solvent. Neither of the Nephilim spoke, nor looked the others' way.

Ulthane couldn't stand it anymore, and decided to lighten up the atmosphere.

"So…what ya boyos do fer fun?" Ulthane had to ask to break up the dull tone that hovered heavily in between them. Even in the midst of "annoying pigeons," Ulthane was still not one to prefer boredom.

The Churub grooming Haamiah's wing peered up in astonishment, unsure as to how to react.

"Um…what do you mean by, fun?"

"Ya know…don't ya play a flute or sometin, or sing and dance? I find it hard ta believe you haven't even contemplated using yer halo's fer ring tossin'…"

Despite being mute almost the entire evening, Strife looked up from other side of the campfire, polishing Mercy with a custom cloth made of specialized wool to clean the muzzle and ejection port. The conversation suddenly sparked his interest as Ulthane continued, straightening his posture from resting his arm on his massive hammer.

"Oh come now, surely you pigeons do sometin' to brighten up yer spirits when life's got ya in da dumps…and from what I see there's been a lot of dumpin' comin yer way as of late, eh?"

The Cherub was still bemused at Ulthane's suggestion, but Haamiah let out an unexpected laugh, so unexpected that even the moody and anal retentive Fury caught notice of it. She looked up from lying down underneath Strife's green cloak that she had borrowed to keep warm from the chilly night air.

"Of course, Old One…we're not as humorless as you believe us to be," Haamiah said jovially.

"Well den, since I'm not getting any younger boy, what ya have to make da night go faster?" Ulthane grumbled, trying desperately to find something to do, even in the company of "humorless" Angels and Nephilim.

Haamiah could only smile at Ulthane's suggestion, before reaching into the front leg pocket of his fatigues, and pulling out something wrapped in a gold fleece. Underneath the golden cloth was a flask made of violet colored, corundum stone with a cork in the lid to keep the contents from falling out of it. Ulthane lifted a brow, peering at the flask and what appeared to be a deck of playing cards. Even Strife's attention was in awe, peering at the contents with what seemed to be interesting.

"I would have never guessed that you Angels would ever entertain gambling…" Strife announced, placing his newly polished Mercy carefully back into the holster.

"That's because we are out of the Serephim's jurisdiction…and besides, there's other wares to gamble other than gold or silver," Haamiah grinned.

"_Aha_…Drip Dry…I called it, ya heard it!" Ulthane beamed, pulling himself up before he limped over to the Cherubs personal space. Regardless whatever the brew, booze was booze, and Ulthane wasn't going to miss an opportunity to drink the night away.

"Is a drinking game really the best thing you people can come up with in a time like this?" Fury growled, half awake with her auburn-colored hair tattered from sleeping on it wrong. _Drip Dry_ had been an old, notorious past-time that involved prolonged gambling until the booze finally ran out; but more often than not, most players would succumb to the wares of the wine before they emptied the bottles, resulting in coincidences with more than often humorous results.

"Don't knock it until you try it," Strife blurted out before he too stood up and stammered over to the "boys side," leaving Fury behind.

"What? You're not seriously going to go play…" she growled in shock.

Ulthane could only entertain the Horsewoman's protest as he bellowed over the crackling fire,

"So, is da pretty little lady so afraid she might break a nail playin' cards, eh?" Ulthane mused as the others snickered, including Strife. Fury's eyes burned as if she was going to set the group alight with her stare.

* * *

In the near distance, War sat along the edge of the brook with his hood down, feeling the night air against his tattered white hair. He spent most of the evening by himself, cleaning the carcass matter and blood from Chaoseater. With long and gentle strokes, the Horseman wiped the sword down with a wet rag, dampened with a mixture specifically designed for conditioning steel and other alloy parts. It had been awhile since he was able to finally sit and tend to cleansing Chaoseater, a sword by a name that instilled fear in all whom ever seen or heard of it. It was his weapon; a beast of a weapon he knew intimately, just as all the Horsemen did with their own wares and armaments.

Ruin stood nearby, grunting as he whisked his head to keep the flies off his muzzle. For the first time in a long time, he was somewhat apprehensive to go near the solitary Horseman, knowing something he knew that War didn't. This was a first for Ruin, but he wasn't going to let such a thing come between them…or was he?

Huffing in the night air, the flames from Ruins mane bristled, singing any fly that attempted to land on his nose. War glanced over his shoulder to see Ruin shaking his head, scorching the flies in midair. War could only grunt to himself, amused at his steed's predicament, but at a loss as to the distance between them.

"Why so far?" said War. Ruin stopped shaking his head in response to War's question.

"I said, why are you all the way over there? Did I do something to rile you?" War mused at his ornery steed.

Without further delay, Ruin clopped over to his rider, finding sanctuary in his communion once again, forgetting the anxiety he had earlier and playfully bumped his head along War's shoulder. Reaching up to pat Ruin on the nose, War let out a sigh, feeling the whiskers on Ruin's snout with his bare hands, a feeling he had missed for so long.

War was out of the Abysmal armor, allowing it to air-dry while still wearing the Kevlar fatigues and leggings. His arms and hands were bare, which allowed him to feel with his naked hands again, including the muzzle of his own horse. It was something he had forgotten, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember why he stopped. The touch of the soft grass was quite pleasant, not to mention the soft breeze grazing his calloused skin. The night breeze stirred his long locks of hair, drying out the sweat he had accumulated in the latter days before taking a deep breath, inhaling the ozone scent of the brook nearby.

It suddenly occurred to him as he looked out over the glassy waters, stirring under the night breeze; _where is Plague?_

* * *

_"Ack,_ damnit…" Strife groaned, glaring sappily at the poor hand he had just been dealt.

The Cherubs watched in amusement while Haamiah was attempting to teach Strife and Fury how to play, but as of thus far, Strife's hand had been strategically lacking.

"Haha! C'mon laddie…give her up, or drink her up!" Ulthane laughed, provoking Strife to either give up another article of clothing, or take another drink from the canteen. Despite the faceplate over Strife's facade, Fury could still make out a frown as Strife sighed, holding out his hand to one of the Cherubs, whom gleefully gave him the flask.

"You're not very good at this game are you?" Fury mused at Strife's disposition.

"Not with the way you're shuffling these cards…" Strife grumbled, after already removing his armor and shirt, revealing a gray, pasty rigid torso. He still had his leggings and thigh plates with boots, but he wasn't thrilled at the idea of stripping down in the chilly night air. Haamiah had already lost his shirt and gauntlets, while Ulthane spent every loss with a drink from the canteen, which wasn't much, and even if it was, Ulthane was pretty good about holding out with his liquor, which put Strife at a disadvantage. He would only tolerate a few sips of the Cherub's brew, much to his surprise since Angels were not known for their wine, but apparently Haamiah's brew was so strong, Fury could smell it clearly on Strife's façade.

Ulthane was chugging away the booze like it was water, and not a sway could be depicted in his mannerisms. Strife on the other hand was feeling heavy on the eyes, feeling the effects of the alcohol before he could even cut the deck in preparation for another game.

"Hehe, what's the matter boy…can't handle the ole' wine?" Ulthane chuckled as Strife coughed before taking another gulp.

"Would you prefer I remove another article of clothing?" Strife glumly suggested since it wasn't like Ulthane to find amusement at the Nephilim in the buff.

"Yea, well the girly's a pretty good player…" said Ulthane, much to his disappointment. Fury had only had to remove her clawed digits, and she hadn't lost a round to suggest removing anything else, much less take a drink, again, to Ulthane's disappointment.

"Will you hurry up and cut the cards…it's the feather –duster's turn to start!" she nudged Strife, wasting away like a sailor on leave.

Strife could only groan, feeling the breeze pass over his bare back, a sensation that made him shudder before finally cutting the deck and passing out the cards accordingly.

"Perhaps you'll luck out this time, friend," Haamiah playfully consoled Strife, much to his drunken delight.

"Yea…famous last words…" Strife could only mutter in return before Haamiah began the next game.

Just as the Angel cut the cards amongst the players, Strife twitched slightly as his eyes lit up from behind the steel plate,

"Did you...hear...something?" he stirred.

_"Ah,_ ya see? Now he's hearin' things," Ulthane mused.

"I do believe the frogs are conspiring to leap on your head if you keep prolonging the inevitable," Fury joked at Strife's expense.

Strife only let out a sigh and resumed playing, knowing that if he kept it up, he won't have enough articles of clothing to keep up with the others.

* * *

Out into the grassy bank a little ways away, Plague knelt down to feel the soft grass move along her fingertips. It was an opportunity to remove the mask and feel the sweet, night aroma again. It was blessing and a curse, wearing the Mask of Plague, an emblem detailed in the history of men as a symbol of despair rigidity.

It was a precedence Plague never found solace in; if anything, she loathed it, but it wasn't for her to decide who died and who lived. She wandered the Earth with calculated precision, releasing the pathogens as deemed by the higher powers; no more, no less. Without protest, she wiped out civilizations with a single breath; no swords or fire, just a breath. It was this ability that has either brought many to fear and some to revel. Although even Vulgrim was cautious with such a power, he couldn't help but to admire it, almost lustfully. It was this same intuition that Plague feared the most; _who else would desire for such a skill?_ She never asked for it, nor desired it; she only employed it with a strict discipline, which may have been the reason why she was specifically chosen to wield such an instrument of destruction.

Not wanting to brood at the moment, Plague cleared her thoughts of her occupation and took the opportunity to appreciate the cool night air on a patch of freshly new, green grass. She held her spores closely to avoid demolishing the fresh, few-day old green shards, waving in the breeze. It was within that moment, her tranquility was startled by another presence, one she had long had to deal with over the centuries, regardless if she wanted to or not; and most of the time, she did not desire it.

Pandemonium stood behind, his heavy feet trampling the ground underneath them while looking out over the starry sky above them. He had removed his massive helmet, revealing a pale facade with a scar that ran down one side of his face. His cropped blonde hair was still matted, but the breeze began to free the sweat from his brow to the blonde patch that ran down his chin. The lines along his eyes and mouth suggested a man mature in age, which further complimented his menacing build and presence, almost to the standard similar to that of the male Nephilim. With such a physique, it was any wonder the Elemental could wield an instrument such as Affliction; the heavy flail that had a destructive force that was greater than several trebuchet rounds.

"So…you have chosen to entertain these…Nephilim," he snorted subtly while still keeping his gaze to the sky. Pandemonium was not one to hold anything back, including his own subliminal vices.

"They may be the key to bring the balance back to this world, Pandemonium. Even you can find appreciation in that," Plague explained, addressing only the issue at hand, although his demeanor suggested other intuitions he had in mind.

With that said, Plague stood back up on her bare, human feet while her body was still encased by the organic shell provided from the spores of the Earth, clothing her in its permeable skin. She turned to face Pandemonium while keeping a comfortable distance from the massive male Elemental. Although she did not fear him in the sense of his brute size, she still remained precautious in his presence. Her long locks of dark hair hung freely from the confines of the spores, whisking in the breeze which gave her a slight chill down her spine. Pandemonium was already at work, sending subliminal messages into her head for his amusement, but it wasn't something she had not dealt with before, but was borderline enraged that he would choose to do this to her now.

"Stop it," she growled sternly, her eyes now burrowed under her brow.

"Stop what?" Pandemonium asked slyly, his gaze already fixated to her form.

"Do not mock me, Pandemonium...and I would urge you take heed of my warning," she articulated.

His crimson-colored eyes only narrowed, revealing only an expression of conceit. Pandemonium stood a good two feet above Plague, his wide armored chest nearly swallowing her as he looked down at her, his red eyes following the curvatures in her soft human face.

"You look as if you are sad…" he spoke with an oddly calm tone. It was not usual for Pandemonium to be so discerning, but he gently raised his hand, as if recklessly, to touch the side of her bare cheek. Peering closely into her glassy gray eyes, he could see his reflection gazing back at him.

"Only…concern for the others' welfare…" she cracked as she responded objectively. Plague stood deathly still, not entirely sure as to Pandemonium's abnormal display of regard. Caressing the side of her face with his massive bare hand, his thumb grazed her face until it met her lips, hugging onto her lower pout. She could feel his heavy ogling, his red glare fixating her to him like his flail chained to his side

It was then she could smell it; his blood rushing feverishly in his body as the pretense he exhibited quickly lost its luster. She panicked…

"No, no…" he blurted before she could react, rapidly wrapping his hand around back of her neck and pulling her close. She reached up with her hands to get him off but he was too quick to grab them with his other hand. Yanking her off of the ground to bring her closer to him, she struggled against his brute strength, but it was futile. He had her in his powerful brace, and the only way to get out was to infect him, but something compelled her from not killing him.

"You let go of me right now…"

"_Shhhhhhhhh…"_ he gently hissed, his face now only inches from hers, "…you shouldn't fight it, Plague. Of all the others I have come across, you my dear are the most virtuous."

Swallowing hard as his lowly mumbled words entered her ears, she gasped at the moment he tightened his grip around the back of her neck, feeling her hair tighten between his fingers. She was at a loss for words at the moment, not quite what to make of this violating gesture. They were too far away to for the others to hear, not that Plague was going to lower herself to this insolent Elemental by screaming for help.

Looking through her peripheral vision, the only presence Plague could make out was a lingering black bird; a raven seated on a nearby branch, watching diligently with its beady eyes. It was then that Plague became even more unnerved.

"For so long, I have followed you…for so long I've, wanted to touch you…" he said serenely, as if he was attempting to be sincere. But the signals radiating from his pheromone scent suggested that he wasn't being dishonest, and for the moment, it frightened her.

As long as she had known him, she disliked him, but at the same time she didn't blame him for his occupation. _He served a purpose as the Creator saw fit; it is not for me to judge. _But his lustful gaze scanning her as his nose grazed her soft jawline, inhaling her scent, put her in an unmovable vice. She was physically powerless against his advances and she knew the more she struggled would only feed whatever intentions he had in mind.

"You know…that I am hazardous…" she sneered in between pants, finally relinquishing control, or at least in the physical sense.

He only chuckled in return, feeling him exhale on her bare cheek as he sighed,

"Your threats have always amused me…though I believe it would be worth it," he considered, nuzzling his nose into her gathered strands of her dark hair to savor her scent, _"…awwwww,_ you have no idea what you do to a man."

Relishing in her unique pheromone scent, she felt the heat radiating from his body rise. The thudding coming from the palpitations of his heart was beating fervently in his chest, feeding blood into his more erogenous parts. His overstimulation could be felt, stirring her panic button the moment she felt his erection rouse against her leg, only kept in check under the bonds of his battle fatigues.

"Do not give in…" she was close to begging, desperately trying get him to come to his senses, but was unsure if even _that_ was the better of alternatives.

"So we submit and shroud away like caged animals? To never know what we were meant to be?" he grumbled callously.

"We were made better than animals…we were made in His image!"

"To be assembled from the dust of the ground, only to be caste from his console to wallow in this cruel world?" he began to get irritated.

"It was not He that separated us from Him…you know this!"

"I am tired of this life, Plague…" he began to growl, "…I never wanted this, to be chosen to cause humanity to wail in its own filth."

She could feel him quietly snarl, his jaw clenched as his nose grazed along the side of her face to her ear, his moist breath clinging to her skin.

"For once, I wanted you to know," he genuinely acknowledged. He was silent for a moment, his hardened skin now balmy and pale, finding serenity in such a creature as Plague; a rather strange place to seek comfort in the very Elemental that could easily cause his limp nodes to inflame and his throat to swell. No doubt he feared her, but unlike the others, he sadistically relished in it…and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"So now answer me this," he began again, his perspiration now mingling with hers, "…why do you deny yourself these pleasures the Creator willingly gave us?"

"The pleasures of our frail flesh is pale in comparison to His kingdom; a place he promised that we will one day dwell…" she began before she could feel his red eyes burn against the side of her face, his grip tightening even more to near discomfort.

"Enough," he growled in a low tone. Panting, he took a moment to simmer down, gently loosening his grip after sensing her tense up in his hands, "…you care so much for those despicable Horsemen…and yet you feel nothing for me?"

"I haven't made you choke on your own mucus…yet…" she scowled in return, her brow now hung heavily over her eyes. In that moment, the seething tension being built up in her body shut Pandemonium's' telepathic musings from her psyche. His subliminal suggestions bounced off of her intellectual wall so that his emotional stirring was useless now, but he wasn't going to free her just yet, even though she truly could strangle him on his own phlegm.

It wasn't the answer that he desired to hear, but it did not come as surprising to him either. He had long known that she would put honor over her own self-interest, even in the face of her own demise. Staring now into her scowling façade, he could only return a sinister smile.

"That's my girl…"

Before either could act, a cold hard tip could be felt on the back of Pandemonium's' bare neck, feeling the sudden cold contact caused the blonde hairs on his skin to stand on their ends. Although it was somewhat unexpected, Pandemonium didn't panic as he simmered down, letting out a sigh to ensure that he wasn't intending on bringing anyone harm.

"Put her down," War ordered, still pressing the tip of Chaoseater against the back of Pandemonium's neck.

"Of course Horseman…I intend no harm my fellow Elemental…" the cunning Elemental responded, finding solace in the chaotic moment, but for the sake of keeping the peace as he had promised, he gently brought his hands around Plague's slender waist so he could lower her feet back onto the ground. Within the moment her feet touched the ground, she whipped herself out of his grasp and slapped him across his bare face. Meeting her small bare hand across his face jolted his head slightly, making sure that he understood her disproval of his most recent behavior.

Plague was fuming, her brow scowling at him as he turned to meet her gaze once again while still looking down at her. War kept his sword in place, but was stunned as to the vigor in this smaller creature, making her inclination known to the man whom was twice her size with a force that could have easily broken her in half, and yet, she chose not to strangle him with elements of the pathogens. _Who is this? Is this Plague?_

"Do not do that again," she sneered, her lips trembling in fury, trying to keep herself composed despite her rage, before she redirected her gaze to War "…we must leave, now!"

"What of the others? What of the Swords of Eden? Are they not to continue their mission?" War recited in bemusement.

"This was ill advised, and I blame myself for not seeing it earlier. Please forgive me m'lord, for I have failed all of you," Plague stated, ashamed as she turned around to hide her face from the both of them, "…I have endangered them."

But before anyone could respond, a sudden shriek pierced into the calm, splitting the air amongst the three.

"Disperse, now!" Pandemonium shouted. He was immensely distracted with Plague, he had compromised his peripheral meditation to catch any unwelcomed company. They barely managed to break out of the snare, almost flanked by four massive Incubi wearing armor made of iron while branding the "Icon of Sin," the emblem of the Dark Lord; and emblem of a Demon's skull, with horns similar to that of a goat and rigid teeth of that of a lion.

"Destroy the accursed Elemental dog…he will only hinder our progress," the largest one with a steel headdress, sneered.

"What of the Horsemen and the others?" another hissed.

"Let the Succubi take care of them. Take the female among them…but leave the creature of the pestilence, to me!"

* * *

_I managed to finally gain a copy of the comic by purchasing the PC version of the game for cheap. Now I can actually read it without having to strain my eyes by viewing the random, pirated copies on-line, lol._


	21. Chapter 20 The Incubi's Snare

_The group of Nephilim and Angels are caught by surprise as a force of Demons commence an attack in the early hours of the morning...but it is merely a distraction._

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Incubi's Snare**

It wasn't even morning, and yet the horses fidgeted, snorting and huffing while clopping their feet heavily into the ground beneath them. Both Conquest and Desolate meandered sporadically to the commotion nearby before a frantic War entered into the camp with sword in hand, but without his armor.

"TO ARMS!" he shouted, quickly assessing the situation as a sullied but composed Pandemonium released his flail to his side.

"Get up you lugs!" Pandemonium shouted. His booming voice reached the vicinity where some of Angels took up for the night, causing them to rise with their swords released from their sheaths.

The sudden outburst soon alerted the others nearby, despite not being entirely coherent.

"_Bah,_ what's that boy doin' now," Ulthane began until a sudden familiar shriek pierced his ears, _"…ack! _Those confounded Hellions!"

Quickly getting up before snatching his hammer, he yanked Strife to his feet,

"Get up boy…we're goin' ta be in a scuffle here, real quick," Ulthane shook him.

Strife's weary gaze peered through the faceplate, somewhat stumbling in place, and although the strength in his legs were fickle, he was still able to grip Mercy in hand with poise. Fury on the other hand, was more frantic.

"Get up, Angels…move quickly!" she persisted, suddenly reaching for her illuminating whip.

Haamiah was the first to acknowledge the alert, but as time was racing fast against them, so were the Succubi as they entered the scene, their voices screeching like banshees. The other Angels sprang to their feet, their wings still folded.

"Swords of Eden…commence attack!" Haamiah roared.

Although they lacked the protection of their armor, they were a bit more limber without it. Two immediately took flight to counter attack from the air, but they were soon noticed by the oncoming Succubi.

_"Bring down those squawking Cherubs,"_ one of them spat. It wasn't long before a smaller, but more agile Succubus leapt to bring one of them down, grabbing him by his legs.

"_Gah,"_ the Angel shrieked, feeling her claws sink into his legs. The combination of his weight and hers soon yanked him back to the Earth.

The Succubus managed to hop back onto her legs before the Angel could, but as she proceeded to strike him, the Angel quickly speared her in the gut with his plasma sword. The crimson flow came rushing out, spilling onto the ground beneath them as the Succubus writhed and thrashed in agony until her blood emptied and her body went still. He pushed her off of his sword with his boot until she slumped backwards and onto her own pool of blood.

The victory over the smaller Succubus was soon short-lived as more Succubi entered the fray. They were the shield maidens of Hell, branding leather straps across their bosoms and chainmail draped over their hips. Their skin was thick but not entirely impenetrable, but the one thing they had that the Incubi lacked was the ability to slither into the tightest of situations due to their lithe frame. This gave them the advantage to mate in some of the most uncompromising arrangements, further expanding their ability to seduce and mate with whomever and wherever they came across, and then killed them shortly after they accomplished procreation. It was this same ability that made them incredibly problematic to combat within enclosed areas, such as the forest. Their ability to dash with ease between the trees made the situation grave.

Gnashing their rigid teeth behind satiated lips, the Succubi advanced without waiver. But before they could strike the nearest grounded Angel, Ulthane managed to drop his Hammer to the Earth, consequently rattling the ground beneath them. Although the grounded Angels had to brace themselves to combat the tremors, the Succubi stumbled over the quake.

"Aha! Take that you Hellion wenches!" Ulthane jeered before lifting his Hammer to knock the nearest fallen Succubus to the side, sending her flying across the terrain and impaling several trees in the process.

"Quick! Take them out before they revert back into formation," Haamiah bellowed over the fray. He knew that the Succubi were quick on their feet and would resume their battle arrangement.

Within moments, a lighter but faster Succubus managed to leap onto Haamiah's back, and began clawing at him.

"_Ack,"_ he shrilled, using his wings to shield his head and neck from her assault. Twisting and shaking, Haamiah slammed his backside to the nearest tree, ramming her hard into the callous bark in hopes to get her off, but she was resilient.

"Get…this damned, Demon off of me," he shouted, flinching from the she-demon's thrashing. Within moments, something whizzed past Haamiah's head, followed by gurgling gasp and a blood splatter that drenched Haamiah's hair and wings.

The commanding Angel finally managed to push the Demon off of him, throwing her limp body to the wayside. Bringing himself back up, he soon noticed the smoking barrel of Strife's gun, Mercy, held firmly in in the Nephilim's hand, despite his drunken state, still pointing to the lifeless Succubus.

"Are you…amiable?" Strife managed to stagger as he approached the blood drenched Angel.

"For now, I can at least still wield a sword," Haamiah responded honestly. He did not rely on the condition of his now, frayed wings, but he still had enough vigor to summon his plasma shield and sword, "…these instruments are enough to rip these she-beasts into shreds without flight."

Within moments, the Angel and the Nephilim stood back to back the moment they heard the Succubi's war cry. More had just ventured into the arena.

"Damn…" Strife mumbled, feeling his head aching from the wine, but was still able to reload and brace his weapons without pause.

"Keep firing, Nephilim…and I'll cover you from this end," Haamiah suggested.

"Works for me," Strife had to agree.

More Succubi entered through the densely packed thicket and into the sparse wooded area where the Angels and Nephilim huddled, bracing themselves for the next assault. Entering from the other side, War managed to bludgeon through the foliage, using Chaoseater to break away the impeding vines and branches.

"Incoming," War bellowed, his voice heard throughout the forest, catching the immediate attention of the nearest three Succubi.

_"It's that bastard Nephilim,"_ one of them hissed.

With a quick twist of the wrist, War was able to move Chaoseater with fluidity as he had always moved, bringing his sword on top of some neophyte Succubi, littered in war paint that was charging towards him. Impaling the wretched creature, she gurgled on her own blood until her body went still, exhaling her last breath.

The other two riled in spite, charging in opposite directions to surround the battle-hardened Horseman.

"WAR…TO YOUR SIDE," Strife yelled over the snarling Demons.

"That is exactly where I want them, brother," War mumbled to himself, his eyes still fixated on Strife and Haamiah's position.

"What is he doing?" Haamiah panicked, but Strife was poised, for he knew of War's ability in battle was superior to that of these fledgling, overcompensating She-Demons.

"Do not fret, Angel. He knows what is coming to him," Strife simply responded to ease Haamiah's awareness.

Standing erect with Chaoseater held firmly, yet effortlessly in hand, War was unflappable, not giving away anything to his enemy. The Succubi approached him quickly with care, knowing this Nephilim had struck down their veteran sister earlier in the week, which hit a malevolent cord in their spirit. They didn't dread him, but they didn't underestimate him either. He is War, and all of Hell had foreseen his reputation as a combatant most worthy of the highest of their competent slayers, and even they were no match to this Nephilim. But like most feral of animals, the younger Succubi were unrefined in their skill, relying on their speed and agile movements to overcompensate their miniscule understanding in battle tactics.

After his last encounter, War knew that the Succubi were superior in their stealth and speed, but he knew these neophyte Demons had not quit harnessed the fullest potential in their cerebral abilities either_. I can obstruct their telepathic suggestion,_ he was quick to analyze, unlike that of the previous Succubus he encountered before; _which means the Dark Lord is breeding and amassing his army too quickly, and then sending them out with no tactical aptitude to harness their fullest capacity. This may be the ultimate weakness we can exploit to our advantage._

It wasn't long before both Succubi surfaced to finally strike the subtle Horseman. Believing they had the advantage, they grossly blundered the moment they darted on opposite sides toward the Horseman. Stepping back slightly, War swiveled his wrist to his right side as Chaoseater followed, impaling the Succubi to his right while elbowing the left Succubus with his Gauntlet arm. Though he was lacking most of his armor, he still had the Gauntlet attachment, which was constructed of the most sturdiest and resistant of all metal alloys, or at least enough to knock the oncoming Succubus to the ground, leaving her clutching a shattered horn on the right side of her head. Yanking Chaoseater back to his forefront, he swung the massive sword to the other side in a complete circle, finishing off the wailing Succubus, severing her head from the rest of her scaly body.

Bringing Chaoseater back to a ready position, the skirmish was already done. Both Succubi laid lifeless in their own pool of blood, their cadavers now broken and useless before the ever so resilient Horseman of the Apocalypse

Watching the fight unfold from the distance, the veteran Succubus hissed at the Horseman,

_"Insolent Nephilim! Your seed will be eradicated, and the Nephilim will be nothing more than a muse for all to dwell in tales!"_

She was larger and more sinister in presence than that of the others, which suggested she may have been the matriarch of the group; perhaps even being the matron of the female horde. Although her body was fully voluptuous in build, her solid legs supported the girth in her hips, suggesting that she was agile in moving her weight more proficiently. The horns that riddled her crown was wrapped by the pale strands of her main, braided with precision as shorter strands fell in front of her pointed ears. Her crimson skin was littered in black décor, elaborately winding along her limbs and body, which suggested her age and status. Apparently this Succubus was exceptionally experienced, and had the tactical insight to stir the band of Nephilim and Angels off their guard.

_"My offspring…scatter,"_ she signaled to what remained of her squadron. Within moments, her peons flanked from multiple directions. They consisted of other neophytes, aggressive and feral in mannerisms that were more primitive than that of the matron. But their armaments and movements were not the least to be underestimated.

"Take heed…those hags of Hell trespass," Pandemonium sneered, his crimson gaze focused on the encroaching Succubi entering their space.

"Do not let them get into your head," War made a point to warn the others.

"That won't be a problem," Fury initiated, moving into the fray with her plasma-wielding whip, wrapping it around the first Succubus to enter their domain and pull it off to the side. Struggling against the coils of the whip, the Succubus fidgeted, unable to wrap her intellect around the Nephilim's mind. Fury's skill with the whip was superior to that of the Succubus, but the she-demon's agile strength was a force to reckon with. Fury struggled with the Demon's thrashing against the coils, so much that the Succubus tugged hard enough to pull Fury to the ground.

"_Ugh_…Demon whore!" she snarled, feeling the pain after hitting the ground on her side. Suddenly the Succubus released herself from the confines of the whip, yanking them off with her taloned hands. She bellowed with a high-pitch screech, shunning to all those in earshot.

"Shut up, demon hag!" Pandemonium growled, swinging Affliction towards the Succubi's direction. The She-Demon leapt before the flail smashed into the ground, causing debris to scatter aimlessly. Fury was able to move out of the Elemental's way, allowing him to take care of the Succubus while she fervently searched for Strife and War amongst the skirmish.

Although Pandemonium could move the flail rather fluently, the Succubi was faster on her feet than the Elemental was with moving his flail, and she rammed into him with her horned head, causing Pandemonium to stumble backwards.

"_Ack,"_ he spat out when he came tumbling to the ground. The she-beast managed to straddle him on his midsection before pressing her clawed hands against his breastplate.

The Demon hissed with her forked tongue as it slithered between her jagged teeth, _"Resistance is futile, Elemental!"_

A dazed Pandemonium could sense her subliminal inclinations trying to provoke him to suggestion, but unbeknownst to the Succubi, this was a game this Elemental too could play, and play it well.

"I don't think so," he growled before he managed to push her off of him by thrusting his hip to one side, bucking her off of his mid-section. Grabbing his shotgun, Suffering, from his side arm, he sat up quickly before the She-Demon could regain her composure. Quickly, he raised the firearm towards the somewhat bewildered Demon and pulled the trigger.

* * *

The sudden pop coming from the shotgun startled Fury before another Succubus caught site of the distracted Nephilim. Fury whipped her head around, only to catch a glimpse of the oncoming Succubus, aiming to sweep her off of her feet, but the Nephilim managed to turn just enough to evade the Demon's clutches and thrash her face with her steel claws.

The Demon shrieked as she fell to the ground, clutching her bloody, tattered face in agony. It wasn't long that the Horsewoman's victory over the Succubus was short lived when she felt something yank her head by her burgundy locks of hair and was tossed into a shallow ravine nearby. Tumbling across the gravel and weeds, Fury plummeted to a halt. She attempted to get up, trying to fight the overbearing fatigue but something struck her on the side of her head, causing her sight to dim and her head spin.

A massive Incubus knelt over the fallen Horsewoman, folding her arms behind her back as he hummed a low, grinding moan. A shiver shot down her spine the moment the Demon's groaning could be heard, but she felt too woozy to do anything about it. The creature was twice her size, branding an armor made of iron while his bare, pale blue skin on his exposed arms was littered with scarification.

Feeling the Nephilim's body lax, the Incubus moaned,

_"You smell ripe, Nephilim…"_ he coaxed while releasing his iron belt that sat snug around his hip. The other Nephilim and Angels were too distracted by the encroaching Succubi to notice the squadron of Incubi securing the ravine nearby. Subtly, the male Demon was able to remove his battle skirt without interruption, releasing his erect instrument of conception.

_"The Horsewoman will be my next whore,"_ the Incubus moaned, licking his chops with his forked tongue before prostrating his body over the inebriated Horsewoman. As he straddled her legs with his own, Fury managed to wake up from his trance. She suddenly began to fidget under the Demon's tight bonds that were holding her wrists in place, trying to kick the Demon off of her, but he pinned her lower body with his own pelvis, thrusting himself between her weakened legs.

"Get off…of me…Demon scourge," Fury was able to muster, angrily fighting against the Incubus' tight bonds, but the Demon was more resilient to her thwarts. She could not buck him off, and the more she tried, the more fatigued she became. This only allowed the Demon to slither himself in place, preparing himself to quickly enter the reluctant Horsewoman.

_"Relax rider of the Apocalypse…you might enjoy it,"_ he cooed in between grunts, working to unhinge her chastity bonds as he forcibly held her down under his whim, until a sudden shriek severed his concentration.

"Get off of her, Demon spore," a hideous Plague screamed in a rasping high-pitch screech, ripping through the dense thicket as the branches cracked and crumbled under the Elemental's talons. Within moments, the Incubus wasted no time dismounting the weakened Horsewoman and rerouted his concentration to the oncoming, raging Elemental.

"You will not enter the Horsewoman," Plague snarled before it leapt towards the Incubus. The Demon managed to barely dodge the incoming Elemental, catching one of its talons in the process as it tore a shallow gash into his leg. He snarled in return, gnashing his rigid teeth at the Elemental.

_"So you're the Elemental bitch that managed to escape our grasp,"_ he sneered, staring down Plague with his menacing crimson eyes. He was slightly bigger than the previous Incubus that Plague had encountered before, and apparently was more practiced at chastening his victims. It shuddered Plague to think of how many Elemental females fell to this monster, whose sole ambition was to stalk, rape, and fill their womb with his unholy seed so he can increase the Dark Lord's army.

"..and I will be your last! Your promenade in this world ends today!" Plague sneered, dispersing its spores past the crustacean barrier of its armor.

The Incubus let out a low chuckle, amused at the Elemental whose size was infinitesimal next to his massive body and brute strength. If there was anything the Incubus found with Plague that was of concern was the porous shell encasing the Elemental's body; _a challenge to break open indeed, but it is certainly plausible._

Without delay, the Incubus rushed to his feet to change his strategy against the Elemental of the pestilence, knowing that the creature Plague could easily make his throat swell at a whim. Plague brushed the forest foliage aside with its taloned hands, calling the spores of the Earth to gather around the vicinity. The Incubus acted quickly, letting out a deafening shriek before Plague could fully summon the pathogens nearby, causing a rift between Plague's subliminal communications.

"_Ugh…"_ Plague growled, clutching its head. Fury stirred slightly as the noise entered her ears, causing her to cringe at the earsplitting sound.

"Stop it…" she yelled, but her already weary voice was drowned out by the elongated shrill bellowing from deep within the Incubus' gut, holding it out for an extended amount of time to incapacitate his opponents.

"Enough," Plague shrilled in response, hopping back up and summoning enough vigor to at least swipe its talons at the Incubus, only this time Plague managed to cut into the male Demon's exposed genetalia.

Shortly after pushing the pillaging Elemental off of him, the Demon let out a painful howl before dropping to his knees to clutch his bleeding groin. Plague managed to roll back onto its stomach to prepare for a counter attack, but was pressed for time. Just as Plague managed to get back on all fours again, two more Incubi were already within parameter, crouched and ready to pounce; _damnit, where did they come from?_

Ignoring the groaning Incubi Plague managed to incapacitate, the others didn't wasted time to divert their attack on the Elemental. One at a time they took a shot at the somewhat dazed Elemental, exchanging blows as they took turns swiping at Plague's shoulders and legs, hoping to weaken the Elemental's limbs. Just as quickly, Plague was able to finally grab one of them by the head with its thorny toes and smack his face into a fallen log nearby. Holding the Incubus' head down with its foot, Plague was able redirect its assault to the other one, whom was already charging in. Stirring the spores that hovered around Plagues organic shell, they dispersed into a fine mist before the other Incubus leapt into it, causing him to cough and gag…but without warning, something suddenly wrapped around Plagues throat and began to tighten, pulling the unsuspecting Elemental to the ground onto its back. Plague struggled against the pressure being applied to the throat, struggling to breathe as the Elemental lost all concentration.

_"So how does it feel, creature of the pestilence…"_ a sinister grinding voice could be heard from behind, _"…to have the life choked from you?"_

Clutching the coil that was wrapped tight around Plague's neck by trying to pull it off with its clawed digits, the larger Incubus walked up to the fidgeting Elemental. Struggling to fight off the Incubus' bony tail that encased Plague's throat, the mist of spores dissipated, and Plague's grip on the other Incubus' head loosened, allowing him to pull his head from the Elemental's clasp underneath its taloned foot.

Between the deafening shrill, the repeated blows to Plague's limbs and the tight clasp around its neck, Plague lost focus, losing contact with microbes around them. The other Incubus got back up on its feet while the other was still coughing and gagging, panting in between convulsions as it started to hack.

_"Quick, remove the mask of Plague…"_ the larger Incubus ordered the other. With a swift sweep of Plague's legs, the peon Incubus brought the Elemental down and just as quickly, wrapped its arms underneath Plague's arms, keeping the dazed Elemental stationary while trying to remove the mask of Plague, an instrument of the Elemental's mysticism that was said to have a power that many would not have the means to tame.

Struggling against the Incubus' hold, Plague thrashed with its legs, foundering the demons' attempt to remove the "face of Plague." It wasn't long before Plague began to summon the spores once again, and the Incubi rushed to prevent the Elemental from filling their lungs with mucus.

Removing the mask that was clamped to Plague's head, the neophyte slammed it down to the ground so it could revert both its arms to hold the squirming, but weakening Elemental. Plague was no match against the Incubus' acute strength and stopped struggling in futility as the spores departed from Plague's control, releasing the once concealed façade and revealing that of the human once known as _Janella._ Her long locks of raven strands drooped down, mingling with the sweat that was accumulating on her bare face.

She was panting, cringing underneath the Incubus' grip before he ran his hand along the side of her face. His touch was callous and balmy, but it caused her to quiver, so much that her limbs went rigid. She knew what he wanted and for the first time, she had doubt she may not be able to stop it this time. _I've spent too much energy protecting the Horsewoman_…but her loyalty to the four was too great a risk, and so she swallowed hard, bracing herself of what was to come.

_"Such a remarkable find, and so fierce…your womb will be worth more than tens of thousands of the Dark Lord's armies,"_ the Demon cooed, but before he could advance further, the larger "alpha" of the group gripped the side of her neck, placing pressure against the artery, subsequently causing her to pass out.

_"Release her,"_ the large one growled.

_"But she is ready to receive…"_

Without hesitation, the alpha Incubus struck the neophyte to the side of his horned head, knocking him sideways to the ground.

"The Dark Lord has dominion over this one! She'll not be chastened by your feeble seed," the alpha Incubus sneered. The other Incubi stood their ground, allowing the larger Incubus to gather the comatose Elemental, lifting her flaccid body from the ground and into his fervent brace.

The alpha male began to exit the premises, leaving the infected Incubus behind, while the one bleeding from the groin staggered along, still groaning in pain.

_"What of the Horsewoman?"_ one of other Incubi concurred.

_"Leave her. We must get this Elemental to bowels of the Dark Lord. That is our priority."_

_"And what of the others?"_

_"Leave them to the Succubi."_

_"What shall we do with our comrade?"_ another spoke up in concern for the one lying on the ground coughing violently.

_"Leave him…another failed specimen will be eradicated form the Dark Lord's army. Failure will not be tolerated."_

…and the alpha quickly exited before the other Nephilim nearby took notice.

* * *

In the near distance, a Succubus managed to thwart one of the Angels to the ground, succumbed by the menacing she-Demon's musings.

"Get…this Demon whore…off of me!" he hollered, shielding his face from the Succubus' clawed fists, glancing each blow with his gauntlets, but they were wearing down under the Sucubus' relentless thrashing.

She had already pierced his left wing with her tail, immobilizing him from the air while she continued to beat him down, snarling in between blows.

"Feathered, over-righteous bigot," she hissed, "…Heaven will fall into the Dark Lord's bosom!"

As she continued, a whistling bullet pierced the back of her shoulder and then exited through the front. The sudden contact made her falter as she ceased bludgeoning the Angel to clutch her bleeding shoulder, nursing it as best she could. This was the opening the Angel needed to get out from under her dominion as he kicked her leg out from under her.

Within moments, the Succubus was wedged between the lame but persistent Angel and the Horseman Strife, whom was quick to bludgeon the she-beast with a solid right hook to her exposed face. Each took turns to wear her down, keeping her succumbed between them as they dodged her tail and bony fists, but with each strike from the Angel's staff and Strife's assault, the Demon withered under the strain. She howled for help, but the others were indisposed, trying to round up the elusive bunch.

The matron stood from afar, watching her peons succumb to the valor of the Nephilim and Angels, while the Elemental and Old One was just as vigorous.

"Get back ya horned wenches," Ulthane could be heard in the fray, causing the ground to shake with each strike coming from his Black Hammer. Pandemonium was also thwarting the anxious Succubi with his flail.

"You want some more of this, sweetheart?" the Elemental mused, his crimson eyes burning with abhorrence. Between Pandemonium's psychosis hindering the Succubi's neurosis and the overwhelming force of the group, the neophytes were losing their ground. Already they had lost eight of their sisters, with another soon to follow as War managed to evade her snare and strike her down with Chaoseater. Pulling his sword back from the Demon's still body, War peered up to scan for the others.

_Where is Fury_…he pondered. As the Succubi's numbers dwindled down, the fray was coming to a close. War clutched his right arm, bleeding slightly from a shallow graze he encountered from one of the Succubi. He didn't have time to put on his armor before the assault began, so for the moment, he was somewhat vulnerable; not that it deterred War in any way. He was still as much of a proficient fighter as he ever was, with or without the Abysmal Armor.

The Angels however, looked a bit frayed, but they managed to survive for the most part, intact. They too didn't have the amenity of their armor, but their skill in battle oddly appeared to be more effectual than that of the Hellguard's. _Azrael hand-picked his mercenaries well._

Staggering from a slight pull in his groin, Ulthane managed to join up with the others, along with Pandemonium, whom for the most part was rather ecstatic.

"Those bitches have been hunting us for weeks now," he growled, "…it was time they jumped out from the bushes to reveal themselves."

"I do not believe we've seen the last of them," said Strife.

"We haven't," Haamiah added within only moments as another war cry could be heard in the near distance.

"_Ack,_ we've got problems now, boyos," Ulthane groaned as he shifted his weight to accommodate the pulled groin. Haamiah's damp hair was matted to the side of his head, feeling beads of sweat dribble down the back of his neck. His bare torso was without a scratch and his tucked-in wings were still intact, but a long, glanced lesion was exposed under the tear in his lower fatigues. It burned from the Succubus' sweat that entered it, which was acidic to the Angel's delicate epidermis. All in all, the group was in some form of pain.

Strife was the least worn amongst them, despite his drunken state, but even he was beginning to doubt if he would get out of this brouhaha unscathed, if at all. In the distance, they could see the matron Succubus, branding her staff as she lifted it up, howling abhorrently. It was this war cry the group loathed the most, knowing that this Succubus had another wave of Succubi at her whim, ready to embark.

"Looks like we're not quite finished yet," Ulthane was the last to groan, before the "matron" dropped her staff to commence attack.

* * *

War meandered through deep thicket that lead into the ravine where the Incubi had taken temporary refuge, only to find Fury gathering herself with only a lone Incubus nearby, lying dead after he finally choked on his own mucus.

"War…" she called out to him, the moment she saw him.

"Are you alright…what happened?" he pressed.

"I'm…fine. The Incubi…they took the Elemental…" she panted, leaning over to catch her breath, "…the Elemental saved me but was taken away. They were ordered to take Plague to the Dark Lord. I could not stop them."

War peered out from within the forest. War knew that the Incubi were quite a force to reckon with. Even he had a hard time with just one, much less several_; nevertheless, War's valor knows no boundary. I must get Plague before the Dark Lord does._

"Go with the others. I'll go to find Plague," War ordered.

"But…" Fury began to protest until War intervened.

"Despite being annoyingly loyal, that Elemental has a unique devotion. I cannot, without conscience, allow such a devotion to be dishonored at the hands of those cretins," War explained fervently.

Although normally Fury would protest relentlessly, for once, she let it go and simply nodded in return without rebuke.

"They will need you now, sister," War quickly advised, just shortly before the war cry could be heard from the near distance. Fury whipped her head around to the shrilling noise, knowing that a second wave of Succubi may be in the wake.

"You are more equipped to handle those scaly nags anyway," War added.

"Indeed," Fury could only agree. With that said, the two went their opposite directions without hesitation, knowing that they both were capable of the tasks ahead of them.

War ventured out of the woods to follow the generous trail the Incubi left behind. Despite being without armor, War insistently pursued on without delay. Continuing on foot, War let out a whistle that shrilled out in the air. Suddenly, a massive pyre formed out in front of him as a black, fiery form ventured out of the flames. As the flames dissipated, the blazing horse of War leapt out onto the surface of the Earth, neighing in its wake. Ruin was reunited with his rider once again, clopping towards a more prudently armored War as he shook his head to greet his rider.

"We must make haste. The Incubi have Plague," War said abruptly as he lifted himself up into the saddle. Ruin anxiously huffed in between snorts, realizing the situation was dire.

Without further delay, Ruin started to gallop, picking up speed with each stride as he followed the Incubi's trail, thinking all the while the terrible things he was going to do to them when he caught up with them…_and catch up with them, I will._


	22. Chapter 21 Damsel In Distress

**Chapter 21: Damsel in Distress**

"_Heaven hunts you...Hell hates you. All of creation cares not whether you live or die…_

…_so why continue to serve a Council that is corrupt and mismanaged?"_

_~The Destroyer to War~_

* * *

"_Of all the creatures of this world that this Horseman could ever possibly find communion with, War is content in the company of Plague? …the most loathed of all Elementals? Most intriguing indeed…and perhaps the more precarious!"_

_~Calamity, upon discovering the alliance between the Nephilim and Elemental~_

* * *

_A hundred years earlier, shortly after Abaddon's betrayal and War's fall to Straga…_

Inside the fortress below the Well of Souls, the walls began to shimmy to the tremors that shook the structures' solid walls. Straga's footsteps could be heard rattling the ground with his enormous presence, pulsing with each massive step. Azrael's guardians scattered like leaves, trying to combat the overbearing Straga in futile. One by one, the Cherubs that protected the Well of Souls fell as those who remained were strewn, trying in vain to salvage what was left of their militia.

Deep within the Fortress of Light, Azrael watched from the glittering spheres that hovered around him in his cell, seeing with passive eyes as Straga was pending closer into Azrael's dominion. The Great Gates, now forced into slavery under the Destroyers' control, could no longer protect the Well of Souls, leaving the fortress open to attack, just as Azrael predicted. He had made arrangements prematurely before his own capture, which he knew was inevitable.

In the other chamber behind the stone walls and iron bars that enclosed Azrael from the outside, a girl with a soft façade and glossy gray eyes, reached beyond the iron gate that separated her from her master. Azrael peered to her with sorrowful eyes, while his enormous, feathered wings hung high with the orbs that hovered around him. Floating in poise from the cell floor, Azrael extended his hand for her to hold, wrapping his fingers around her small hand to cradle it with a tender, but firm grip…

"…learn from me…" he said in mellow tone, his eyes pale and adoring, "…do not give temptation the slightest inch, or consume you it will, like it did with Abaddon. I…didn't see at first, until it was too late…"

"Master, I will not leave you…" she pleaded, fighting back the pain in her gut as one of his guardsmen held her back.

"…but you must…if Earth has any chance of deliverance, you must sever your communion with me at once, "Azrael beseeched as the light form his aurora began to diminish under the dimming lights, cracking with the foundations of the marble floors "…_Please_, listen carefully…you have trusted me after all these years…trust me now as you did then. The Horseman Death is your master now. Obey him as you would me."

Gazing with glassy, gray eyes, the Elemental long known as Plague nodded in compliance with her former master, the Archangel of Death. He returned a warm smile, gently releasing her hand as he slowly hovered back, moving the air beneath him under the flapping of his colossal wings.

"Now go! Straga is near, and he will spare no one in my company," Azrael instructed her, "…go with my personal guard. They will take you to the eldest and wisest of the Four."

Just as Azrael finished his instructions, the walls shimmied under a thunderous rattle that shook the Temple. The Commander of what remained of the Swords of Eden suddenly came into the dungeon, flapping his blood splattered wings frantically as he met up with a hesitant Plague and what remained of his fellow guardsmen.

"Come, Elemental…we have little time…" he insisted as he gently grabbed Plague by the shoulders and attempted to pull the reluctant girl from the iron bars that estranged her from her master.

Slowly being pulled away as her gaze was engrossed on the Archangel of Death, he lowered his head to close his eyes, not wanting to see the grave expression in her face as the tremors in the vicinity worsened, causing debris to fall from the stone ceiling and the foundations to crack. The walls began to fall between them just as Commander Haamiah took her from the dungeon door. Suddenly, the pillars collapsed behind them, closing them out from the room in which Azrael had taken refuge. Rubble was strewn all over the temple as Plague and the remnants of the Swords of Eden escaped through a secret access into the Temple of Souls, leaving the fallen fortress to Straga and his minions that stormed the temple, killing all others in their path.

Watching from a distance on a plateau, the Commander, along with his men and the Elemental Plague, watched the Destroyer's minions take Azrael in iron shackles, executing the other Angels left behind. A silence hung amongst them, feeling whatever hope they had fade away like dust in the wind. A light breeze passed through them as the sounds of hooves clopping nearby was closing in. The group looked up to a black rider and his insipid, decaying horse, carrying a massive scythe that glimmered under a purple haze. Raven black strands of hair moved with the wind over the rider's masked façade while the black bird on his hooded shoulder peered at them with beady, yellow eyes.

Keeping their swords in their sheaths, the Swords of Eden stepped back to distance themselves from the Horseman Death. The Elemental Plague however, stood her ground to glare at him with solemn eyes, the same sad, gray eyes he had seen many years before. It was a gaze he had never forgotten when he first came to her one cold, dismal day in Sicily, Italy…the day a great pestilence was unleashed to strengthen humanity in preparations for the _Endwar._ Of all the calamities that had occurred on the Earth, he never anticipated this; to watch helplessly from afar as his fellow Horseman, War, was thrown into the fray, branded a scapegoat to a corrupted council...but even moreso than to be reunited with this eccentric creature; the one they call Plague.

She held the mask of Plague in her hands, feeling the callous contortions of it's lurid features as she looked up at the Horseman. Feeling the weight of her frail human stare, the elder Horseman moved up to her on his pale steed, whom grunted while carefully trotting to the Elemental of the pestilence. Glaring at her from the saddle, the Horseman benignly extended his hand to the girl as his crimson eyes glistened from the sockets of the façade that was Death.

"Come with me, Elemental…" Death spoke in a tranquil, but commanding voice, "…a new destiny awaits you."

Despite the urge to look back at what remained of Azrael's domain, his voice was still loud and clear, _"Do not give in to temptation…don't look back."_

Keeping her eyes fixated on the Horseman, she slowly took his hand, allowing the Horseman to pull her up onto the back of his steed, carefully clinging to his shabby black cloak as her long dark hair fluttered around her face from the wind bustling around them. She was infinitesimal against his Nephilim frame, wrapping her arms around his slender rigid waist beneath the black, tattered cloak as it's threads fluttered in the breeze. Pulling up the chainmail reigns, Death gently nudged his steed while the Cherubs stood their ground. Commander Haamiah proceeded to walk up to him,

"…and what of the White Gate?" the Angel asked.

Death readdressed his attention to the Cherub, turning his steed to face the Angel as Plague clung to his cloak tightly.

"It is closed off now…the Destroyer spared no expense in keeping the Earth under his control," said Death, feeling the ever-so disheartening ogling coming from Azrael's personal guard as he turned his gaze to all of them, "…listen for your master, and watch for the seventh seal. When it breaks, and broken it will, you will be summoned once again…so be ready."

Hammiah complied to the Horseman with a nod before he turned to the other Angels and gestured them to come with him. One by one, the remnants of the Swords of Eden left to wander the Earth, keeping their spiritual union with Azrael as they waited for the day they will serve him again. Shortly after they had left, Plague mustered the strength to ask the Horseman Death from behind his coarsely, frayed cloak,

"What would you have me do now…master?"

"Be patient and trust in me," he reassured her, "…I will have answers for you when the time has come…"

…and the Horse began to trot away, leaving the Well of Souls to the Destroyers' dominion until its day of liberation.

* * *

_To the present…_

_"Move quickly…"_

…the Alpha Demon roared as he increased the length of his stride, carrying the Elemental Plague in his tight brace. She fluttered in and out of consciousness, not quite sure where she was at the moment, but she knew she was under the bonds of the Incubi.

The stench of brimstone, concocted with decay that was coming off his course, marble-colored skin was potent. He held her snuggly between his breastplate and the firm confines of his rigid bicep. The Incubus was well in size and strength, perhaps even more so than that of the Nephilim and Angels put together, so needless to say, regardless how much she could squirm, she was not going to slip out of his clutches anytime soon, if at all.

Between the bumping and grinding as her captor moved with her strapped under his girth, memories of the past had fluttered to the surface, reminding her of the day she parted from her Lord, the Angel of Death. Her communion to him was without price, that not even the events of late could sever her memory of him. _M'lord, where are you now…_her voice strained under the labor of her predicament.

Pushing against the Earth with their massive, clawed feet, the Incubi could sense the Dark Lord's nous pulsing in their veins, like a life-force yanking them by some subliminal chain. The closer they were to the Dark Lord, the more compelled they were drawn to him, feeding off his intuition from some telekinetic umbilical cord. Their drive to reach their destination was becoming fiercer. Like some instinctive compulsion, even Plague could faintly make out a deep grinding voice of the Dark Lord, calling to them from within the entrenched confines of their psyche. At first she thought it was just the toxin in her body making her delusional, until a hideous voice could be faintly heard pushing past her own moral convention…

_…I feel you…I can smell you…I can taste you in my blood._

Shuddering to the hideous calling, Plague could only wither away into unconsciousness to avoid it. The Incubi however continued to move in formation, pulling her ever-so closer to the Dark Lord's realm. The neophyte Incubi followed behind the Alpha but kept their distance strategically dispersed to watch out for anyone or anything that may have been following them. It wasn't long before they caught the scent of the Horseman and his steed, closing the gap between them rather swiftly.

_"That bastard Nephilim is getting closer,"_ one of the neophytes snarled, trying to keep his pace along the Alpha Incubus.

_"The Horseman approaches,"_ another bellowed.

_"Embark,"_ the Alpha commanded and immediately, two broke off from formation.

_"Spread out! Watch out for the steed,"_ he instructed with a deeply-throated snarl. Although they could outrun the Nephilim, the Horseman was quite a force to reckon with when on horseback, especially this duo.

War was feared among many, and even more so when he was on Ruin. The Alpha was not as naïve when it concerned the Four, nor was he supercilious. But his primary concern as of now was to deliver the Elemental to the Dark Lord, Mephistopheles, preferably intact and unspoiled. He knew the Horseman was not going to make it easy for them. However, the one thing they had to their advantage was that he was alone.

_Together we will make short work of this Infidel Horseman!_

* * *

Trudging through the discerning path left behind by the evading Incubi, Ruin galloped profusely, hitting the ground hard with his fiery hooves at a swift pace with his rider leaning forward in the saddle. War could feel the broken and tattered branches graze his bare arms, but he ignored the brush as Ruin moved in pursuit, for the Incubi made no effort to conceal their trail, leaving a rugged path of destruction for the Horseman and his steed to follow. Looking down, War could make out four sets of footprints; _there were supposed to be five…_

Ruin continued without delay, huffing intensely as flames burst from his nostrils, following the four sets of footprints. With each pass, War watched the ground carefully, noticing that the Incubi's prints were scattering.

_They're separating…they're positioning themselves to entrap us._

Ruin galloped tirelessly with each gait as he stretched his legs into wider strides. War clung to the horn with ease, but waited in anticipation, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before he would catch up to the evading Incubi.

The scent of the Incubi was potent to Ruin's nostrils. With each impending gallop, the odor of the Incubi grew stouter, and the closer Ruin was to the evading Demons. Even War was able to catch their charcoal-like stench, concocted with a fresh body odor that resembled that of rotting meat. It wasn't long before War was able to get a visual on one of them, meandering the sparsely scattered trees that littered randomly along the deeply trenched ravine they had been following.

Clinging to Ruin's backside with his legs as he braced his boots in the stirrups, War leaned forward with his hand reaching for Chaoseater and removing it from the sheath. Within moments, War caught site of the Incubi in his peripheral view, closing in.

War lead Ruin with caution, knowing that others were probably running nearby, waiting for them to enter their space; a typical tactic amongst the Demon hordes. War was contentious about exposing himself just enough to uncover the true threat. The pale Incubi was just bait, otherwise they would have subjected the stronger, more intimidating Demon of the unit.

Moving with fluidity between the obstacles that kept a partial barrier between them, the Incubi was able to look back and get a glance of the pounding hooves of the heavy steed. Ruin was relentless, his eyes now focused on the target as he huffed heavily, but he waited ever so patiently for War's guidance. Passing up trees and heavy brush, the twigs and branches scathe along Ruin's legs as War kept his head low, avoiding the larger low hanging branches as the Incubus was able to keep up the pace, when suddenly, another set of clopping could be heard from behind; _they're finally here,_ War was quick to realize. _Let the ambush commence._

War leaned slightly to the left, signaling Ruin to flank the evading Demon from the side. The lone Incubi was pale in color compared to the others and slender in frame, but this did undermine the fact that he was an Incubus; the more fiercely battle-hardened of the Dark Lord's legions. The Incubi were strong for their size and relentless in combat, just as they were bred to be.

Looking over his shoulder, War suddenly caught a glance of a blue-hued Demon ramming through the brush, his horns leveling all that was in his way, frantically following them, growling and gnashing his teeth. _Now there are two_…Ruin could feel the heat coming from the Incubus' huffing against his rump, agitating the air between them with each clop of his hooves, stirring the dust from the ash-heap ground.

Within the moments the beasts accelerated, their eyes ever so fixated on the horse and his rider. Ruin kept his pace, allowing one of the damning Demon to close the gap between them, waiting for a nudge or a tug from War. The Demon snarled, splitting the branches the horse and his rider were able to evade, shattering the tree limbs and turning them into splinters with each passing tree. Whether the creature had the ability to knock down a full-grown tree, War didn't know, but he wasn't about to give the benefit of the doubt either.

_Wait for it_…Ruin could feel War's subtle commands as the rider rose slightly from the cantle to clench the inside of his thighs against Ruins' sarratus ligament that ran along the ribcage. With his ears back and his eyes fierce, Ruin's anticipation could be felt, waiting on the whim of his rider, holding his pace steady and his speed unwavering as he stood in the stirrups. Closer and closer, the Blue-hued Demon moved in, foam oozing from the mouth as he breathed heavily. _Almost there…just a little closer…_

With the two now barely in reach, the Demon hastily leaned to grab the steed by his leg, but it was met with the unenviable as War nudged just enough to redirect Ruin to the left and slowing down into a canter. The Demon instantly passed them up without even a graze before War met the creature's back leg with his sword, cutting it off with a single swoop. The sudden shift in momentum brought the thwarted blue Demon down, fumbling from his own weight against a legless backside, roaring in agony as the blood spewed in all directions. Circling the sliding beast shortly after it plummeted to the ground, War lifted Chaoseater into the air to drop it into the Demon's neck, severing the artery for the blood to flow from its body like a faucet.

It wasn't long before the smaller, pale Incubus joined the fray, entering the skirmish from the side by extending his taloned hands as he leapt, nearly knocking War from the saddle, but War slid off to the side to avoid the Demon's pounce. Shortly after War dismounted, Ruin darted forwards to prepare against another impending attack.

Rolling back onto all fours, the Incubus turned around to arch his back and let out a snarl through his rigid teeth.

"You die Nephilim dog!"

War leapt back up onto his feet with Chaoseater in hand, widening his stance as he prepared for another assault. Within that moment, the Incubus stood up on his hind legs, lifting his long rigid body with only the chain mail wrapped along his loins as the only armor the Demon had, which only made the confrontation equal between the modestly armored Horseman and the fiercely feral Incubus. Armed only with an iron cleaver, the Incubus gripped it hard in his scaly hand, eying War with a blood thirsty gaze. It was within that moment the Horseman brought up his hand to signal the hesitant Demon to come forth;

_..Bring it!_

Instigating the already edgy Demon only riled him up further as he snarled loudly before he recklessly charged the Horseman on two legs. He brought his cleaver over his head before he leapt into the air to bring the momentum down hard and fast onto the Horseman, but War had come to know this tactic all too well, and had simply side-stepped to the left, bringing Chaoeseater into a ready stance. The Demon brought the cleaver too fast to control it and instead of impaling the Horseman, it hit the ground instead, embedding it into the crust of the Earth. Like any experienced warrior, War swung his sword with ease, bringing it up to hack the Demon's arms from the handle of the cleaver that was stuck in the ground. A howl echoed along the ravine from the Demon bellowing in agonizing pain as he thrashed frantically. Now armless, the Incubus used the only weapon he had to his arsenal, and that was the horns on his head and his rigid teeth. War quickly dodged the beasts' head that bore two slender horns and short blunt tusks.

While the Succubi would flaunt several pairs of slighter horns, the Incubi however would brand two pairs of weighty horns and long tusks. The length of an Incubus' tusks indicated how old the Demon was, therefore the older, more experienced of Incubi branded long, callous tusks while juveniles were shorter and smooth, indicating his rank on the battlefield. However, whatever the juveniles lacked in tactics, they made up in resilience and speed since they were not as bulky and heavy as their older counterparts. In either case, this Incubus was going to be a lot more perseverant than the last one War managed to take down. Even without arms, the rush of adrenaline flooding the beasts' bloodstream made him the more unstable.

Although War managed to dodge the first attack, the Horseman was not so lucky the second time as the Incubus whisked his head like a flail, knocking the Horseman to the wayside, shoving him a good eight feet onto the ground.

_"Gah,"_ War cringed, feeling his arm swell from the contact. Although he had been hit pretty hard many times before, getting bludgeoned by the Incubus' flailing head was not foremost on his high pain-tolerance list. Their heads were thick and solid, capable of shattering large trees and boulders, not to mention Angels and Nephilim. Is it any wonder the Hellguard, Heaven's elite army, would brand themselves in several layers of armor against Hell's legions.

Picking himself back up, War cringed slightly, suddenly realizing that he had a freshly open graze on his abdomen. _Damnit…_

War looked up, his eyes now gazing fiercely at the snot-nose Incubus whom was trying to take a piece out of him. The beast snarled in retribution, ignoring the pain in his arms as he gloated,

"Infidel Horseman…I will gut you, then eat your flesh!" he hissed.

War could only peer at the insolent Demon, bringing his sword back up to a ready stance; _I've just about had enough of you._

Without further provocation, the Incubus darted forward, using his hind legs to push his entire weight against Horseman. War managed to barely dodge the Incubus' ramming head, rolling under the Demon's torso to take out one of the Incubus' legs with his shoulder, consequently causing the creature to plummet to the ground. Rolling back up onto his feet, War followed quickly with his sword in hand, moving to bring it onto the fallen Demon, but the Incubus was also quick to roll his hip, rotating his torso to meet the Horseman's sword with his two front horns and tusks. Pushing against the Demon's dense head, War realized that he didn't have the momentum to sever the beasts' horns. Although Chaoseater was a refined sword with powerful properties, the Incubus' arsenal was not as frail like that of other Demons.

Realizing that the Demon was just buying time for the others to escape by keeping the Horseman preoccupied, War made the annoying but essential decision to withdraw, yanking Chaoeseater from the clash. Allowing the Demon to thrust forward, the beast fell face first into the ground, inhaling the dirt shortly after impact. With Ruin close nearby, War managed to race and hop back up into the saddle, feeling the burning sensation along the fresh gash on his abdomen, but ignored it for the time being.

"Make haste," he said to Ruin, "…we must get to the others before we lose their trail completely."

Ruin neighed, whom was somewhat hesitant not wanting to leave the maimed Demon alive, but War insisted further,

"No. We followed them to liberate Plague," War reasoned, "...he won't get far."

Without further prodding, Ruin whipped around, ignoring the armless Demon rolling onto his stomach as he agitated the dust the on the ground, snarling in spite.

"Come back you Nephilim bastard!" the beast bellowed, but War and his steed left him to whatever demise awaited him. Without his arms, he knew he would not be allowed back into the Dark Lord's confidence, and would thus be out-casted.

He growled in fury, spitting profanities until he could hear something coming from the other side of the ravine. The Incubus stopped his thrashing to perk up, his ears now forward and his eyes wide and blazing. He could catch a scent, something rancid with perspiration. The Demon shrunk back the best he could with no front arms to stabilize himself upright.

It wasn't long before the eyes of whatever it was that sought him surrounded him, peering through the brush in illumination. The Demon hissed, revealing his teeth to keep the lurking creatures away, but this did not deter their hunger.

They were a pack of Lykens, the wolf-man hybrids thus bred from the more feral of the Elementals, and they were not swayed by the Demon's shallow threats. They now roam like famished animals, preying on anything in their path for survival. Like Minotaur's, Harpies, and Fauns, they were the result of a secular union between Elementals and humans, but their arrogance had made them chauvinistic. Believing to be superior to the rest of men, they were subjected to banishment by the Council for their trespasses, but were soon freed shortly after the failed Apocalypse, and had since roamed without parameter; their allegiance however is not known. Although they were normally hesitant to attack an Incubus, maimed or not, this Demon would be able to feed their pack for a week, and that was incentive enough.

Feeling the weight of the approaching Elementals, the Incubus grated his teeth at them, propping his head in preparation for the assault as the Lykens moved in, their teeth blared, their ears back, and the hair on their heads upright. One by one, they entered, surrounding the lone Demon, keeping their eyes fixed on the prize.

Although the creatures were larger in size than that of the average human, they were infinitesimal against the likes of an Incubus, but their anthropoid frame mingled with that of the canine species made them swift and agile. The thin fine hairs that littered their bodies were matte, with the exception of the thick main that ran down their backs and stood upright when livid. Most of all they mingled between their human and wolf-like forms when the monthly lunar cycle would peak.

It wasn't long before one of them jumped onto the Demon's back, grabbing the gape of his neck with its teeth. All at once they jumped in, searing the Demon's scaly hide with their teeth and claws. Although the Incubus managed to shake a few off, killing two with his flailing head, the constant contact from all directions was wearing him down, and it wasn't long before the Demon exhausted all means of defense before succumbing to his fate.

Although the Lykens could make out the scent of the Horseman and his steed, they declined to follow them to take advantage of a fresh meal they hadn't been able to acquire in weeks. After several bellows and whimpers, the Demon went silent as the Lykens proceeded to get their fill. Others took advantage of the other Incubus corpse nearby, shooing the black birds that too were feeding on the cadaver. Nipping and growling, the pack of Lykens rushed to get their share, behaving more like wild animals than that of disciplined men.

In the near distance, a black raven watched the feeding frenzy from above on a branch nearby. Watching with his beady eyes, the bird looked up to watch in the distance, the Horseman pursuing the last of the Incubi unit with the Dark Lord's prize in their possession. With that in mind, the bird leapt up to spread his wings and follow suit.

* * *

The Alpha Incubus stood at the edge of the ravine, irritated that his telepathic union with the others had gone silent.

_The cursed Horseman is coming…_

A deep, grumbling snarl, surfaced to his nostrils as he exhaled in spite. The senior Incubus branded two pairs of tusks from his jaws and three sets of horns on his dense crown. He knew he alone could take on the Horseman, but whether he could fend him off and deliver the Dark Lord's prize may not be as probable, and it was this that infuriated him the most.

It was only moments before his ears could hear two pairs of hooves entering the edge of the ravine that hung directly over a deep precipice; a bottomless abyss that was said would lead to the Dark Lord's domain, whatever that entailed. The charred horse and his rider trotted into the Incubus' arena, poised for the moment at the on-looking Incubus, standing tall and menacing in all his lore. War was not the least bit intimidated by the Demon's size and girth, but the fact that this creature was almost as war-hardened as he suggested that this skirmish was not going to end well for at least one of them, if either may get out of it unscathed at all.

"I'll admit, your perseverance is admirable Horseman…" the Alpha Incubus sneered, unhinging the strap that was snug along his shoulders, "…but I fail to understand as to why are you willing to risk your soul for this, frail Elemental? Have you forgotten what happened to your race?"

"Do not lecture me about the fate of my race, Demon…" War growled in a low, fierce guise, "…for I was there when it happened."

"Then it may occur to you that the Kingdom of Men were given precedence over that of the Creator's first-born," the Demon condescended with a slight menacing grin that stretched across his callous face. The Demon continued,

"Does it not boil in your blood Nephilim, that this creature is now His favorite?" he prodded further, lifting Plague's limp head by her long raven strands as her limbs dangled from his bonds,"…does it now anger you that _she_ will enter the Creator's dominion without deliberation, as it was bound by the Charred Council…this same Council that has condemned you to damnation for travesties of another whom now has taken sway in the Black Prince's court?"

War's expression shifted, "What?" he muttered.

"That's right, War. You were merely a pious pawn, while Abbadon was easily influenced, and Samael imprisoned. Although Azrael was not as easy to sway, we were still able to deal with him…" the Demon conceded.

"I didn't come here for your mock empathy, I came for the girl," War sneered.

"So that is what she is to you?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Demon," War interrupted, "…your ability to deliver the Elemental is foiled. How will you answer to Mephistopheles when he finds out that you have failed to bring her to him?"

"You have no authority here, boy! Mephistopheles has the Earth in his realm now. You are nothing more than a trespass that needs to be eradicated!."

"Then eradicate me, or face the Dark Lord without his prize…and then we'll see how pitiless you really are when he shreds you from the inside out."

Releasing the strap that held Plague to his bosom, the Alpha Demon dropped her to the ground before he suddenly took flight, taking the higher ground to another cluster of boulders nearby. Coming to a halt, the Incubus stretched his arms to reveal an array of scars, littered along his forearms. Scratches lined his callous hide, branded along his arms like motifs of decorum.

"You see this, Horseman?" the Demon proclaimed with scorn, "…I have defiled many to expand the Dark Lord's army. I have held them down as they tried to futilely claw out of my grasp!"

War's eyes narrowed at the damning beast. He knew what was next to come, and it may have not been too far from the abysmal truth.

"…many a Nephilim dame I have violated. I have come to find that they were more pleasurable when they were forced…"

A tick spurred from deep within War with each articulated word that fell from the Demon's mouth. Like poisonous darts, their sting was worse than his bite, but this was all inconsequential as far as War was concerned, regardless what this Demon boasted. The Horseman kept his composure stagnant as he dismounted from Ruin.

"I can't help but to wonder," the Alpha continued to gloat, "…as I entered each and every one of them to quench my thirst, I wonder if you Horseman, have ever imagined what it would be like to satisfy that craving? Tell me, do you covet her, Nephilim?"

The crest on War's forehead burned brightly in the wake of such vile suggestions, but he still held his composure, closing his fists tightly as the gauntlet hand clattered in his palm. _You unimaginable bastard…_

"Does it not burn in your loins for release? She is here, weak and enabled…take her," the creature pointed at the comatose woman lying on the ground, "…she is nothing more than a petty human. Use her body to gratify your craving, rider. Her garden is ripe for the taking! The Council offers you no other solace for your calling, other than wrath and hate! It is madness…do you not deserve to enjoy the pleasures the Creator has willingly equipped you?"

With each passing statement the Incubus used to tempt him, the more innerved War became.

"Release her now Demon, and I promise your death will be swift…" War reiterated to the insolent Incubus, his hand now on the handle of his sword.

Narrowing his crimson gaze, the Incubus ceased his slurring before he reached for his carbon-steel blade to pull it out as he shouted,

"Then let this battle commence!"

* * *

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter 22 Something Wicked

_The Angels and Nephilim continue to battle the Dark Lord's minions, but is there enough grit to hold off the relentless Succubi? In the meantime, War has unfinished business with the evasive Incubus._

* * *

**Chapter 22: Something Wicked This Way Comes**

_"Ack…"_ Haamiah could be heard falling eight feet from the sky, tumbling to the ground over his already tattered wings. Although they have taken abuse before, they were being subjected to heavy wear than they had ever been before the Succubi platoon. Pulling himself up from the marshy shore of the pond, he looked up to an oncoming Succubus, the one whom brought him down in the first place. Baring her weathered horns, she lowered her head to shield her neck from his sword. Hammiah gripped the handle of his plasma sword before lowering into a ready stance, folding his wings back tightly to avoid further damage. He could already feel the barbs swelling from being yanked and scathed. The Succubi were maliciously tactful about shredding and tearing the Angels' wings any way they could, leaving them enflamed and bleeding from the barbs.

Flanking to the side, the neophyte Succubus was careful about approaching the Commanding Angel. Although she had a thick, purple-hued hide that was resilient against most wares, she only branded a chainmail battle skirt which left the rest of her body vulnerable. Her ripened bosoms hung freely, which suggested that her habitual occupation was most likely to seduce and breed, but whatever the reason, the Matron Succubus had called her breeders to combat. _The Dark Lord must be desperate…_Haamiah pondered…_or he is waiting for something, but what?_

Within moments, the topless Succubus leapt to tackle Haamiah to the side, but he was able to shift his stance just enough to counter-attack the Demon's horns, thrusting her head into mud. Bringing his plasma sword to his breast, he then impaled the Succubus with the beam, thrusting it into the back of her head repeatedly, shearing through her thick skull until she was still. _Finally!_

In the near distance, another Succubus came crashing down into the bank of the pond. The Elemental Pandemonium could be heard scolding from the top of the bank,

"Impudent Demon whore! Go back to Hell!" he could be heard sneering as he rolled up his flail from the ground. The fallen Succubus yanked her head from the mud to let out a piercing hiss, but Haamiah was quick on the draw as he stepped over to the side to swing his plasma sword and sever her head from her slender neck. The severed head toppled down her back and into the muddy bank once more.

"…and stay down!" Haamiah barked. A haughty laugh could heard from the boisterous Elemental,

"Nice play, Cherub…and I thought you Heaven-sent were sacred in all things, including combat," Pandemonium gloated.

"Since when has battles been sacred affairs?" Haamiah pointed out as he panted, wiping the sweat from his already drenched brow.

"Indeed," Pandemonium cooed before he leapt from the bank and onto the marshy shore, "… but disorder is _my_ affair."

Gathering the chain to his flail to wrap around his left gauntlet, Pandemonium looked over his shoulder and noticed Ulthane getting flanked in all directions. The she-demons were trying to wear him down like a pack of wolves chasing a deer down to its last spat of vigor.

_"Bah,_ these things just keep comin," Ulthane could be heard complaining as one by one, he would bludgeon one Succubus after another. With each swing, his Hammer came down on them hard, but the moment he brought it down, an elusive Succubus managed to slip past his defense and blind-side Ulthane, ramming her head into his briefly exposed loin.

"Argh…" he bellowed as her horn pierced his side, causing him to topple over from her blunt force. Although he was the bigger of the two, her momentum caught him off guard and forced him to hit the ground, hard.

Another was about to leap towards him, but the unsuspecting Succubus was pummeled by Pandemonium's flail, Affliction, sending her flying the other direction.

"Look alive, Old One…" the Elemental yelled out. Ulthane lifted his head from the mud.

"Yah damned wenches…" was all Ulthane could muster between the pain in his side and the throbbing in his face. The Succubus released her head by yanking it from out of his flesh before Ulthane could whack her off with his other arm, but he missed. Standing over the maimed Old One after she dodged his attack, the Succubus scoffed,

"Your time on this place is long overdue, Old One…" she sneered.

"Yea, ya younger hoodlims' tink ya know it all, but lemme tell ya somethin' missy…" Ulthane growled before he managed to yank out the Hammer and slam it to the ground, consequently causing them to fall on all fours from the aftershock, "…I may be old, but I still got more wits than da times you've spread yer legs to da scum of the damned!"

Barely pulling herself up on two legs again, the Succubus let out a snarl before she was suddenly impaled by another Succubus. The two rolled another six feet before they sunk into the marsh. Haamiah could be seen leaning over with his sword in hand, panting as he clutched his shoulder.

"I don't know how much longer we can withstand this," he commented as Ulthane gathered himself up.

"Aye. I'm getting' a bit bushed myself…" Ulthane had to agree, feeling the pain burning from his side, like a thousand pin pricks stabbing him all at once.

"Get down!" Pandemonium suddenly shouted before he released his flail. Instantly Ulthane and Haamiah ducked, allowing the flail to stretch pass them and knock another incoming Succubus. The massive flail bludgeoned against her head, causing it to split and blood to spray. A mist of crimson hovered in the air as droplets fell on the two beneath it.

"It's rainin' blood! Quick lad, cover your eyes!" Ulthane shouted.

Haamiah used his sword to shield his eyes from the red rain falling over them. Droplets could be felt all around, running down his arms and the back of his neck. By now Haamiah's wings was painted crimson, along with Ulthane's stout arms and wiry hair.

In the near distance, Fury and Strife managed to fend off three other Succubi just enough to give them a brief window to regroup with the others, but the numbers of their opposition was relentless.

"Damnit, where are they all coming from?" Strife grumbled with smoke seething from Mercy's barrel. Gunpowder residue was cluttered along the barrel and Strife's arm, leaving a musty colored pigment on the gun-metal. Although Strife was much more lucid than earlier, he was beginning to feel the she-demons thinning him out.

Although Fury as a bit more boisterous than that of her fellow Horseman, she too was feeling her vigor draining. Her auburn hair was damp from the sweat and blood, which was also caked on her pale face.

"Is…there no end to this?" she huffed, limping her way to a maimed Ulthane.

"Hang in dere lassie," Ulthane could sympathize. By now, all of them were donning multiple battle wounds, bleeding and blistering from the Succubi's acidic sweat. The group here huddled now with their backs to each other, trying to avoid further contact from the Demons continuous bombardment.

_That's it my sisters…_the Matron Succubus scorned, _…smite them until they flounder! Beat them until there is nothing left…and then we will wallow in their bones!_

More Succubi came from all directions, advancing with their thorny hands and horns.

"Keep them back!" Haamiah bellowed, pushing one Succubus back with his plasma shield as he pierced another with his sword. Fury was just as unyielding, searing one Succubus with the crack of her whip. Bracing her back against Strife's, she managed to keep most at bay, but the multitudes were falling on top of them.

"You will fall, Nephilim dogs…" one roared as another jeered,

"The Dark Lord is loosened, and he will ravage you and that bastard Horseman, along with that Elemental bitch!"

Swiping the sword at the multitude of Demons encroaching in their shrinking space, one of Haamiah's brethren glanced over to his superior, looking over his shoulder past his bloody and tattered wing. Sensing the weight of anxiety trembling among his subordinates, Haamiah knew that there was more at play here than a Demon Lord rising in the ranks of the Dark Prince's parliament.

_Just as the Destroyer set the stage, another will enter the spotlight…_

It was long rumored that Mephistopheles was not held in the highest esteem amongst the elites, even in the immediate abode of the Darks Prince's chosen, but it was said that the Dark Lord was the most pertinent to everything Hell was. His vices were radical and sometimes primeval, and yet he was refined, tactful, and had no penitence for his means. It was said that he was Hell, and that alone would wreak fear among all those who sought company with the Dark Prince. Masterfully articulate, he did not cling to the old methodical ideologies of the Dark Prince's devices, which thus made him unpredictable. He would bend, mutate or acclimate, to any environment, like a virus adapting to an unacquainted host. _He is the true Plague…_no conscience, reverence, or the luxury of principle. _He will change everyone else's structure to accommodate his new encryption…_

Feeling heavy trodden from the Succubi force beating them down, Haamiah took it upon himself to address the others,

"We will not survive this…"

Pandemonium growled in response after bringing his flail back to his side.

"Speak for yourself, Cherub! I've beatin' these nags before…"

"It's not the Succubi I was referring to Elemental," Haamiah rebutted, feeling the energy of his plasma shield waning.

"How about addressing our immediate problem," Fury snapped, cracking her whip to keep the encroaching Succubi at bay.

"Shea, and fer how long?" Ulthane growled, "…they've got us in a vice!"

"Then we die trying, but not without taking their forces with us," Fury blasted over the sounds of her whip strangling a nearby Succubus to the ground, "…we cannot let them follow War!"

"Wait, what?" Ulthane perked up, "…where is dat boy anyways?"

"He went to save that one Elemental…Plague," she yelled over her shoulder.

"Wait…dem horned fiends got her?"

"YES!"

_"Oi!_ We're worse off dan I thought," Ulthane concluded.

"What do you mean, _worse off?"_ Strife chimed in, feeling the barrel of Mercy beginning to scorch his hand.

The Succubi were closing in, cramping what little space the group had, when suddenly, past the noise of the growling Succubi and their battle cries, a shrilling war horn bellowed in the near distance.

"For Heaven's sake, now what?" one of the Angel's groaned, still picking the damaged barbs from his shredded wing.

Haamiah was beside himself, dropping his lifeless light-sword from hand, leaving only his weakened but functioning plasma shield secured to his gauntlet.

A callous neighing could be heard in the near distance, along with a booming snarl that resembled a rock grinding against asphalt. Both sides looked up to the oncoming commotion just above the ridge on the outskirts of the forest. Against the bleeding sunset in the sky, a dark rider emerged from the shadows of the trees.

"It is the Reaper!" one of the Succubi bellowed out, "…he has come, just as the Dark Lord said he would!"

Sitting tall on his insipid horse of decay with the Harvester in hand, Death scanned the battlefield with prudence.

"It looks as if we came just in time," Death lowly hummed. Pele the "firewoman" followed up behind him, branding her duel-headed, fire spear. Not too far in the distance, rising over the ridge was three enormous Gatekeepers, shaking the ground with each step as they closed in. They drenched the ground beneath them with soil and gravel, marching in rhythm to an echoing requiem recited in their native tongue.

Amongst the rabble, more Elementals came forth, each branding their talent to the arena with their arms. Death sat erect on his steed, glowering at the Matron as he brought up the Harvester for the fiends of Hell to see. The Matron's blood boiled in abhorrence the moment she recognized the rider and his summoned militia. As the Succubi directed their attention to their new threat, Death 's mellow, subtle voice could be heard on the soft breeze,

"Let us begin, shall we? "

* * *

Rock debris littered the ground with shards of wood chips from the decimated trees nearby. War and the Alpha Incubus had been at it for only five minutes, and they had already demolished the landscape around them.

Although the Incubus had multiple abrasions along his arms and legs from War's arsenal, none of it slowed him down. It was as if the creature relished in the pain, brushing off the jabs and cuts made by War's sword, Chaoseater.

Although War was able to get a few good hits, the Demon was not thwarted at the slightest. His skin was abnormally tough and was able to move fluidly despite his enormous size; the Demon was still able to barely evade War's more fatal techniques.

War resumed to a wider fighting stance, keeping one leg in front in the event he would need to move quickly to thwart the Demon's sudden bouts of frenzy. Although the Incubus' blade was inferior to that of Chaoeseater, War's flesh was not immune to the carbon steel alloy that made up the Demon's dark blade.

The Demon was squatting on all fours, holding his blade backwards to keep it flush against his forearm. His loins were caked in his blood, dribbling from an open gash War managed to inflict earlier.

"Is she really worth your life, Horseman?" the Incubus hissed between his jagged teeth. War wasted no time to flank the brazen Demon as he lifted Chaoseater to the side. Swinging the massive sword, War leapt from a granite platform, bringing Chaoseater over the Demon's head, but the Incubus pulled back to evade the Horseman's assault.

_Perfect…_

The moment War's feet met the ground after the Incubus dodged the seeming assault, he whipped Chaoseater to the side instead of coming down as he had led the Incubus to insinuate, severing the Demon's right arm from the shoulder. It took a few moments for the beast to realize what had just transpired, but as the blood splashed between the two, leaving a cloudy crimson mist in the air between them, the affliction became clear.

Without the right arm to accommodate the Demon's weight when he landed, the Incubus plunged to the ground, falling into his own pool of blood. The Incubus used his own momentum to whip his head from the ground, stirring the blood/dirt muck into the air. War was quick to evade the Demon's damning horns, but between the dry heat, the hard skirmish, and the sudden loss of fluids, it was only a matter of time before the two succumbed to fatigue. Despite his seemingly vigor, saliva began to ooze from the Incubus' gaping mouth, dribbling along his tusks as the excess on the corners of his mouth began to foam. The Demon's wits were coming to an end.

War was able to regain his posture quickly in the event the Demon would counter-attack, but the war-hardened Demon was slow to rise. Ignoring the burning sensation along the back of his arm, War lifted Chaoseater to poise. Harboring a sword of such vitality and size, it was a feat in itself that the Nephilim could wield such a weapon, but as it was, War was agile in his own right, earning his occupation as the Horseman War.

"Any last words, Demon?" War growled, holding the tang of his sword tightly in his hand. Although his contempt with this creature was without prose, he still clung to his ethic of honor.

Fumbling under the weight of his wounds, the Incubus merely lifted his head. His crimson eyes firmly met with War's, glaring at the Horseman with a malice that could unravel normal men, but War was not one to fracture so easily. War's gaze was pressing, but the Demon did not advance, nor flee, but chuckled. Beneath the gurgling, blood-congested bowels of the Demon's inner mechanisms, the beast began to laugh diabolically.

War's facade melted into puzzlement as the Demon laughed out loud, coughing with each brazen chortle that spat from his mouth. Between the blood trickling down from his blackened nostrils and the saliva accumulating along his chin, the creature still had the drive to mock his opponent one last time before the air in his choking lungs left him for good.

"Did you think…that I would have bothered to waste my time, _*cough_…fending you off over something so trivial…as that unsanctioned human spawn?" the Demon conceded. War's brow crunched tightly over his illuminating eyes, baffled as to what the Demon was alluding to, but the Incubus' haughty laugh was not mistaken.

"Your time _*cough,_ is up, Nephilim. Enjoy your little victory while you have it…cause it won't last long."

Shortly after the last word exhaled from his gaping mouth, War grabbed his sword with both hands before he leapt over the Demon to plunge Chaoseater into the creature's neck, severing the right artery. The blood gushed like a dam opening its floodgates, pouring from the vessel through the gaping hole War put in the Demon's neck. Gradually the Incubus dropped his head until it slumped to the blood puddled ground. His body sank as his legs gave out from under him, leaving him to lie on his callous belly.

War was panting heavily as wrath pulsed through his veins, causing the fibers in his muscles to gorge. By now his mind was flooded with rage, ticking closer into some chaotic mindset, but there was nothing left for him to take out his anger on, except for the corpse that was lying before him. Bringing Chaoseater to his breast, gripping it securely into both hands, War moved towards the fallen Demon. His eyes gleaned over the blood-pool beneath him as the emblem on his forehead burned brightly, allowing his wrath take over. Glaring heavily at the comatose corpse, he brought his sword over his head. A brief moment past before he swung Chaoseater onto the Demon's head, severing it swiftly.

It was within that moment that nothing compelled him to stop.

* * *

_My apologies for the delay. Anyhoosits, I would like to thank to those whom have left feedback; I do read them and take them into account and make fixes when errors are pointed out. Since I started this over a year ago, alot of the information concerning the universe I had to rely on the wikia and the comic, other than the game. With each video, article, and concept art shared as we are bridging closer to the release of Darksiders 2, I am enlightened to the new details of the canon. Therefore, I do the best I can to stay with canon, but because I am twenty plus chapters into this, there may be some things that would be futile to change. Oh well, it's just fanfiction._

_Anyways, I will post the next chapter soon, for it is complete and is in the process of editing._


	24. Chapter 23 No Resolution

_After decimating the Incubi band, War continues to search for Plague. Meanwhile, the others stay behind to battle the Succubi forces. Will Death's newly found militia change the tide against the Matron's army?_

* * *

**Chapter 23: No Resolution**

_I'm doing fine,  
Even though this hatred plagues my mind.  
I'm living a lie,  
But I love the way you need me._

_Seether_

The skirmish was daunting to say the least, but War knelt down victorious next to the massive, severed head of the Alpha Incubus to pull up his sword that was still embedded in its' cranium. Bringing Chaoseater to his breast, he gave it swift wipe with the hem of his cloak to remove the blood that adhered to the blade. Shortly afterwards, War looked up as forethought came to mind,

_Plague…_

"Plague…are you there? Answer me!" he bellowed out, scanning the blood-riddled vicinity for the creature, Plague, whatever Plague was. By now, he wasn't sure if Plague was the grotesque Elemental of the pestilence, or a frail, human girl. Regardless, he felt compelled to find and secure this creature.

Meandering around the crimson mess, War stepped over the limbs and entrails before he could finally see a dazed, blood-drenched, humanoid woman, carefully trying to get back onto her wobbly feet. Struggling against the crimson paste that adhered to her face and hair, she braced herself against a nearby tree limb. Her face was disheveled with her locks of raven hair matted to her damp, bloodied cheeks. Needless to say, she was a mess.

Lifting her head as her eyes met the personae of War, a glare of disdain flared in her gray eyes.

"No…no, no…" the woman chastised, "…go back! You should have not come here…" she began to rant.

Bringing herself to her feet, her speech cut short before her legs suddenly gave out from underneath her. Between her anger and her body fighting feverishly against the Incubi's toxins, her legs buckled under the strain, but before she could hit the ground, War was able to advance just enough to grab her waist and alleviate her equilibrium. Compulsively, she grasped his massive bicep, clinging to it for dear life to avoid the jagged rocks below that would have definitely cut her head open if she was to hit it. Without the organic armor immersing her body, she was just as frail as any human…so she held tightly to whatever was nearby. Feeling stability return to her for a moment, she then realized her arms were wrapped securely around War's arm before she flustered in vexation. She released him to stubbornly secure her own ground, making a point to stand without any aid from him.

"Are you so reckless, Horseman?" she snapped at him while attempting in vain to wipe the red paste from her brow.

Despite the malice in her tone, War patiently allowed Plague to gather her wits, noticing her tightened fists quivering…_she is still too weak,_ he could only guess. He still had one hand around her waist, just in case, but the woman was fighting under his brace,

"You should not have risked yourself to save me!" she chastised him yet again, throwing her arm to get him off, but her weak attempt was futile against the much stronger Nephilim. Her demeanor only annoyed War, but he was patient with the inebriated Elemental in her human form, fighting against the Incubus' venom that had her succumbed.

"Shut up Plague, and be still," War groaned, helping her to sit down since it was obvious that she couldn't stand upright without assistance. The venom still had her inebriated for the moment, slowly wearing off but still keeping her groggy.

"Are you so bold that you would put yourself at risk for an impudent Elemental? You're defiance astounds me!" she continued to scold him despite being powerless to make him see whatever reason she demanded of him.

"That is not for you to decide," War tolerated to correct her without malice, "…and last I checked, you are still under my decree and servitude."

"For how much longer…?…and even if you decide to keep me around, what would you have me do?" she bemoaned, "…am I to wallow on the ground like a worm…or bark like a dog for your amusement?" the woozy woman quivered in fury.

War was little taken aback by her sudden objection, but somewhat amused by her defiance at the same time. Holding her up by her hand, War kept her prostrated but she was still swaying. She was so petite next to him that her hand was literally swallowed into his palm as he held her up. Without her organic form to stretch out her limbs, she was much shorter than he had realized.

Shivering from either the chills, or rage, Plague finally ceased her nagging for a moment to recollect her emotions, coming to finally realize her vulnerable state. Finding a suitable log to sit on, Plague carefully crouched down with War still bracing her by her hand, until she rested her body on the stump. The Horseman released her before gently wiping her forehead with a cloth that dangled from his fauld.

"I assume this toxin will eventually wear away, yes?" he asked.

"Eventually," Plague said solemnly, her anger subsiding for the time being "…my body is not entirely immune to the Incubus' toxins, but it will not kill me either."

"Hmph," War grunted in response. Plague sat mute for a moment as War continued to wipe the sweat and blood from her face that had accumulated along her hairline. Although she was sickly, the color in her cheeks was still richly flushed, accenting her otherwise pale skin. In contrast to the hideous embodiment of the Elemental Plague, War saw her as a rather soft creature with a round figure and soft rosy complexion. It nerved him that she would much rather encase herself as the annoying "Plague" over her true form…_but then again, she is more vulnerable in her human form,_ he figured. Apparently she wasn't too far from the truth as she looked up to wearily gaze upon him. He tried not to return eye contact, but her gray iridescent stare demanded his attention. He felt compelled to stop what he was doing to gaze back. Her expression then drooped into a solemn guise as she spoke more composed than she did earlier,

"I do owe you my gratitude for my welfare…and for that, I thank you Horseman."

War was a bit astounded by her sudden change in demeanor. If he wasn't confused with her before, he was now, especially since she was scolding him earlier for the same thing; _so which is it, are you angry at me or grateful?_ Nevertheless he resumed to wiping her face as he responded to her assumed gratitude,

"Don't," he snubbed. His response came out a bit more callous than he intended, so he sucked in his usual, detached manner before he continued with a little less hardened tone in his voice, "…but if it means that much to you, then you are welcome."

Wiping off the last of the caked mess on the side of her face, he continued,

"We must move quickly. I do not know how much time we have until more come looking for you."

Plague began to rub the side of arms to promote circulation in her limbs before turning her perplexed gaze back to his.

"They're after you m'lord, not me," she made a pint to correct him, but War rebutted,

"No, they were not after me. I was never their initial target."

By now, Plague's expression was almost incensed, trying to make out the reason for War's presumption.

"And what do _you know_ that I do not?" Plague's mouth began to quiver again.

"I'll entertain your prying later, but we need to find some refuge. There must be a place we can go…surely you know of someone who can help us," War insisted. By now, he felt his options thinning as the days grew darker, knowing his "task" was not yet over.

Plague however was somewhat miffed with his insistence, but she regressed, knowing that he was right; _it wouldn't be long before someone, or something caught up with us. _ By now, the Dark Lord's minions were on the move and advancing on the surface of the Earth. The real question was where could they go that had not yet been corrupted by the Destroyer or the Dark Lord?

It was in that moment that Plague's receptive ears picked up a slight presence, a light pitter-patter of tiny feet meandering somewhere nearby. The soft sounds of tapping along the brush and gravel was faint but familiar; _I know that presence._

War could hear it too, but was baffled as to what it could be…_what could possibly be interested in this affair? _At first he thought it may have been one of those mechanical mites, scavenging among the dead ruins of a withered forest, but the mites traveled in legions and never alone. The tapping grew more audible the closer it came, but was still elusive among the curled branches of thorny vines that wrapped themselves around crooked tree limbs. Just then, a small but wiry creature emerged from the dense thicket. Its black eyes were beady, peering out from the tangled brush to sniff the air and see if it was safe to come forth.

Plague's expression softened instantly to the presence of a lucid rodent, its whiskers twitching to the presence of the Nephilim and Elemental.

"We may have a way out of here," she soon acknowledged before she carefully got back up to her feet to meet the brown, tattered rat, now sitting on his hind legs on a branch nearby. The rodent was not the least bit timid or hesitant when Plague gently approached the creature, whom was more concerned about keeping her balance than scaring the rodent away.

"Where…how?" War asked, watching her carefully approach the rat that by now was anticipating her approach. Its ears was facing forward as his head bobbed up and down to examine her scent in the stagnant air.

"Can you show us the way?" she said, facing away from War as if she was rather talking to the rat. War stood there, bemused,

_Wait, you're going to talk to a flea-infested vermin?_

"Follow him," she suddenly blurted out before turning her attention to War, whom was still standing aloof, finding little sense in the situation.

"Are you referring to that _thing?"_ War grumbled.

"Well, yes," Plague said without condescension.

_She's actually serious,_ War was appalled. Plague continued,

"He can show us a way from this place and into the Catacombs. That may be one in a few places Hell has no dominion."

"…and what or _whom_ is in the Catacombs exactly?" War had to ask.

"One of the more prudent among us, Kasin Vermin…better known as the _Rat King."_

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

The bustling of metal and rock, clashing against one another echoed along the remnants of what remained of a reclusive marshland, nestled between the plateau and a dry, rocky riverbed of what was once the Euphrates river. The Horseman Death had made his presence known. The slight bustling of air would pass the Succubi before they even knew what hit them, and then they were pierced like pigs. The coming of the Harvester felt like a light breeze before the blade met with flesh, and then severed it just as instantly.

What had remained of the Succubi forces had dwindled greatly, much to the head matron's anger. She glared in spite as her forces were picked off by the Horseman's blades and the brute destruction of the Gatekeepers wailing, stone arms. Between the combined forces of the Gatekeepers and the allied Elementals, the Matron's talons sunk deeply into the ground as she clenched her feet.

Suddenly, a booming roar could be heard amongst the turmoil,

"Go back to the shadows from which you came," the ground-splitting tone of the Elder gatekeeper bellowed, hitting the ground beneath him with his mossy-stoned fists.

Pele the firewoman clung closely to a weathered, iron-wrought gate that was embedded in the Elder Gatekeepers' weed-infested shoulder. The engraved rune motif on the Gatekeepers' forehead glistened brightly above his glowing sockets for eyes. His face was cracked and scoured from the non-stop battering by the Earth's elements like any stone wall, but he was resilient like reinforced granite. Pele only had to look down from her perch, watching the Succubi scatter from away from the Gatekeepers' mammoth feet. With each gait, dirt and loosened rocks would roll from the Gatekeepers' joints, creating a dusty mist each time his foot hit the ground.

In the near distance, a battered but a still-agile Haamiah pulled himself from the muddy creek bed and onto the grassy bank. Peering past the battle-ravaged trees and foliage, the Angel could make out the battle ahead between the struggling Succubi and Death's rag-tag militia.

"What's toiling over der?" a weary Ulthane could be heard coming from behind.

Clearing the grime and blood that was caked on his eyes, Haamiah peered past the haze stirred from the battle ahead.

"Well I'll be hell-bent," Haamiah mumbled, catching a glimpse of a brief glean coming off the blade of the Harvester severing a Succubus in half, "...I do believe we may see that glimmer of hope you keeping raving about."

"Oh, now ya patronize me," Ulthane huffed with his feet still glued into the mud, but relieved nevertheless.

The Succubi army of the Dark Lord's decree was splintered between the massive Gatekeepers and the Elemental militia. The horde suffered under the constant assault, strained from the persistence of the remaining Elementals that dared to push the Dark Lord's armies at bay. It was one of a few advantages that Haamiah's entourage was more than willing to take, despite their fatigue and tattered weapons. Their company of Nephilim were equally obliged the moment Death opened the arena.

Pushing a lifeless Succubus from the blade of his scythe, Death brought the Harvester back to a fighting pose, preparing for another potential challenger, but by now, the Succubi's numbers were well depleted. Looking up to the Matron whom was still standing her ground on the edge of a great precipice, Death could see the dereliction in her demeanor. Her multitude was lost.

Bringing the Harvester to his left flank, Death crowed,

"What say you, Matron?" he boasted, "…I heard that a Matriarch Succubus has a talent for masochistic rhapsody. Tell me Matron… does this not indulge you?"

The words that bellowed from Death's ever-so-belligerent banter wreathed in her ears. He could tell by the clenching of her jaw that his prose only infuriated her. But like any whore worth her asking price, the Matron unwearyingly frolicked when the time was fitting for due payment.

Releasing the tension in her clinched fists, the Matron merely embraced the battle lost with conceit,

"No need to boast, Horseman. Your demise sits in that dirty cage and he hears you. The Dark Lord will spare no pittance, so that you may experience all the debauchery Hell has to offer…and through your offspring, will he indulge."

The reverb of her words could be felt like a thousand wasp stings, singing the surface of Death's already thickened skin, but it was not something that was completely unexpected and he knew it. He allowed the Matron to continue,

"Does that not excite you, _kin slayer?"_ she cooed between the hissing of her forked tongue, "…to feel the Dark Lord's instrument of ecstasy chafe her from the inside…does it not forebode you to hear her moan from the gallows of his chambers?"

By now, Death's banter turned to malice.

"I suggest you better tuck-tail and run while you have the chance, Demon whore…" he sneered, thrusting the blade of the Harvester into the lying carcass of a nearby Succubus.

With the battle lost to the changing of the tide, the Matron stingily, but coherently bowed out. Crouching down to give her enough spring, she pushed off with powerful legs from the rocky platform, free-falling into the deep precipice below, disappearing into the dark abyss. Any other remaining _peon_ Succubus that managed to evade the onslaught followed the Matron. They leapt from the peak and into the crag, until they too free-fell into the dark abyss.

Gathering whatever wits they had left, the Angels staggered along the terrain, their wings tattered and their armaments near depleted. Strife dislodged the empty shells from Mercy's ejector chamber to recover any rounds he may have left, but his ammunition was dwindled. Ulthane managed to finally drag himself from the slushy marsh, his Hammer nestled on his shoulder.

"This was not a good day…" he was the first to point out, and although Fury normally detested Ulthane's groaning, she too was in agreement. It was a bad day.

Gathering the lead of Desolate's reins, Fury walked the coping steed to the place where Death stood, his expression hidden behind the façade that veiled his otherwise transparent face. It had been so long since she had ever looked upon Death's true face, she had forgotten what it was to see him smile, or frown. These days, he was so detached and sometimes harsh, but never short on wordplay. Although she was indebted by his presence, she was somewhat hesitant as well.

Looking up to him as his glare continued to face the dark canyon that encircled the hole into Hell, Fury could only mince words,

"Was this the product you seek?" she had to ask, despite Death's mute demeanor. Death didn't answer for a moment, his glare still fixated on the Dark Lord's chasm. Suddenly, he amused his sister,

"I'm not sure…" his sincerity could be heard in his tone, "…there is much that I do not know as of yet."

Reaching over to the staff of the Harvester embedded in the carcass next to him, Death yanked the scythe by the snath to give it a quick shake, thrusting the blood from the chine of the blade. Though she stood next to Death, victorious, her knew her body will pay the price. Already she could feel the strain in her shoulders from moving her whip without break to combat wave after wave of Demons. Despite the assault from the Incubus, she was able to function in combat, but the abrasion on her hip from where the Incubus attacked her was still burning. It would be a few days before it could heal on its own.

Haamiah was next to join the senior Nephilim, limping on one leg as his arm carried a weakened but functional plasma shield. Death then turned to look upon the company of nine. They were battered and bruised, but not defeated…but he knew if it wasn't for his arrival, the outcome would have been very much different.

"Cherub…what of my brother?" Death soon asked the weary but collected Angel, "…is he still on the run?"

"He is no longer among us, Horseman. Your arrival was timed just right," Haamiah explained.

"Indeed," Death made a point to agree, despite the face of bewilderment coming from his otherwise brazen sister.

"What does he mean by _perfect timing?"_ she demanded of him, "…is there something that we should know?"

"In due time," Death patiently responded.

Fury was about to continue in dispute, but her glance met with Strife's, whom gave her a discerning exchange that would often suggest her to swallow her prying tendencies and let it go for the moment. Instead, she huffed to herself before turning her attention to Desolate, and continued to wipe the blood from his dismally, gray coat.

The other Angels joined them, along with a scruffy, Ulthane, whom was a bit surprised by Death's entrance.

"I must say, ya missed the Red Rider…" he announced buoyantly.

"So I heard…and you allowed him to get away," Death responded.

"I wouldn't be much of a conspirator if I did now would I," Ulthane replied gleefully. Death grunted in response, amused by the Old One's bluntness.

Pele was the first of the Elemental militia to join the others as the head Gatekeeper advanced to Death's position. Slowing his pace to a halt, he knelt down to allow the Elemental a shallow jump from his shoulder. Coming softly to the ground, Pele shook her fiery spear of the entrails that clung to the javelin. The other Nephilim gazed in astonishment at the rag-tag group of Elementals and Gatekeepers.

"Your taste in friends is dubious…" Fury suggested to Death, annoyed that he had wasted much of his precious time assimilating them, the Elementals especially.

"Believe me when I say they are a means to an end…an end that will liberate War's integrity," Death elaborated.

"These creatures are feral! They answer to no one…"

"These ones came willingly. Not all are animals as the Council proposes, and you would be wise to accept their testimony," Death patiently responded before turning his gaze to Strife, whom stood at a comfortable distance with Conquest now by his side. The great white steed glistened brilliantly as it always had, coming to a full mend.

Turning his attention to the Elemental Pele, Death resumed,

"Are there any others whom may ally with us?"

"A few, but yes. Whether they are capable of joining is an entirely different matter," Pele elaborated.

"…and by what do you mean exactly?" Strife chimed in.

"Some may have be already been obstructed. The Dark Lord knew who to target first, and…unfortunately, others have taken sanction with Calamity and _his_ cause."

"What of Lir, the Elemental of the oceans?" Death asked the firewoman.

"I do not know. He is old and ornery. He trusts Tempest above all else, and if she has allied with Calamity, then he may be a lost cause."

"…and you?" Death pressed, curious as to see what Pele's feelings were in the matter.

"We've had our… disputes …but not like this. I cannot for the life of me understand why he would suggest taking it upon himself to stop the Dark Lord, Mephistopheles. The Demon is a force unlike the others."

"What is the Demon Lord then?"

"I cannot elaborate on my own understanding, only on what I have heard."

"…and what is that?"

"…that Mephistopheles is an pandemic…a plague."

* * *

_Next Chapter 24: Darkness Descending...will the Rat King give War and Plague sanctuary?_

_Greetings and thank you for taking the time to read. After a long deliberating hiatus from losing a good chunk of material I had panned out because two of my damn (other colorful words) memory sticks broke, I sat down and rewrote some of the material that had been lost. Hopefully, I will get back into posting regularly._


End file.
